


Fallacies And Fantasies

by IntoTheFire



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Almost Caught, Angst, Barebacking, Confessions, Conflicting Michonne, Counter Sex, Cunnilingus, Denial, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, First Kiss, Flirting, Guilt, Kissing, Kitchen Sex, Mutual Attraction, Mutual Pining, Negan Being Negan, Oral Sex, Passion, Prison Sex, Repression, Rough Sex, Season 9, Sexual Tension, Smut, Swearing, Teasing, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18836194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheFire/pseuds/IntoTheFire
Summary: A month after the storm, Michonne reluctantly invites Negan to talk about where he stands, and the future of Alexandria, especially with the Whisperers breathing down their necks. Only things escalate and take an unexpected turn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You thought I wouldn't write smut of these two? Hehe. Apparently I like to end off with Michonne/Judith conversations. Not sure why. Anyway, what started off as shameless smut turned into something more, with plenty of guilt and angst because we like pain. Enjoy ~

 »»————-　　                                                                                                                    ————-««

 

Scratching wildly at the steel, the walkers continue to crowd like sheep in a flock. Everyday hoping to breach the walls of the peaceful community once again, much like the disaster years ago when the streets became swarmed. Upon taking it back, it proved a hopeful step for Alexandria’s growth. It had been a long month after the raging snow storm, satisfying to view the last patches of white finally melting away to nothing like it hadn’t existed.

Michonne finds herself wandering the roads returning to her home, jaw locked tight at what was to occur. Her companion trails closely behind her, taking in the sights curiously and staring up at the sky. Inviting the man inside her home willingly is undoubtedly surreal, suddenly wondering if she’s making the biggest mistake of her life. Nonetheless, it was essential she speak with him, like equals. Conceivably.

What was to happen to Negan now, as they moved forward?

It was always the initial decision to keep him confined, but circumstances raise room for manoeuvre. After he’d rescued Judith and even Dog during the bitter cold, it was like a catalyst. Troubling Michonne greatly, she was left to wonder if there had been misconceptions, going as far as to take into consideration about what the two had discussed formerly. Only she refused to listen back then, too heated at the man figuring things out that she couldn’t see through the clear screen. The cell was more than a simple prison, it was also a barrier from letting Negan in, only his talent for words still managed to slip through the cracks into her buried doubts, about what was right and wrong. Unknown as to why, he continued trying to advise her, reaching out to assist her somehow.

While the prison would certainly provide the privacy Michonne required for this discussion, it felt like a step back after what’s happened. Nothing would change, unless there was effort to make change, albeit knowing she’s plunging into deep water here. That saying; keep your enemies closer. Only, she slowly begins to see that maybe he’s not one to _them_ anymore, however foggy it is whether Negan can be deemed as an ally. Neither was she oblivious to Negan’s potential worth as an ally. One of the many talents this man seems to play on is camouflaging his skin to suit his current objective, she knew he’d been a good manipulator in the past, so she was quick to have her suspicions that he was attempting to pull the strings behind bars. Yet, a part of her wanted to believe otherwise, mostly for her daughter. If Judith saw it, perhaps it wasn’t so wrong of her to as well, inevitable during the years that Michonne would acclimate to Negan’s presence.

It dawns on her that she may require his aid more than anticipated, especially with the Whisperers and their brutal nature. Their presented victims along the border were still fresh in her mind, tormenting her. Recovering from the Saviours, Alexandria hadn’t come back looking for a fight, but one was certainly looking for them. If war was on the horizon, there would be more loss. Michonne would have to abandon her humanity once again. At times like these, she finds herself envying the dead.

With a jerk of her head motioning Negan inside, she closes the door behind them, briefly checking outside for curious eyes. Michonne wanders into the kitchen with a sway of her hips, facing away as she opens a cupboard to retrieve a glass. “You’re looking better.”

Not the opener he’d been expecting. Looking to her in disbelief, a signature smirk stretches across his face. “Well shit. You actually sounded serious there, dreads.”

"It’d be problematic if you weren’t recovering.” She replies nonchalantly.

Negan strides in confidently, watching her. “That so? Didn’t know you were that concerned with me.”

When the woman stays silent, feeling the cogs in her brain turning a mile a minute from where he stood, he takes the time to scan his newfound surroundings, eyes homing to his right. He instinctively swipes one of the acorn and beat cookies sitting on the side in a snack box. Glancing up while munching loudly, he almost chokes battling back a laugh. Goddamn if looks could kill. “Je- _sus._ I don’t know shit about what I just shoved in there, but holy hell these are good. Been hiding ‘em, huh?”

Exhaling deeply, Michonne just leaves him to it with a small roll of her eyes. It’d been probably more appealing in terms of food he’d received in a long time. Though the fact he was able to stroll in here and take what he wanted like it belonged to him. Some things would never change. Although, Negan’s animated bounce to his posture when he’s enjoying himself did help to ease the weighted tension in her to some extent.

“You make these?” Negan’s deep voice rumbles with his mouth half full.

The samurai gawks in silence, before nodding shortly. “I learned from a friend.”

“My fucking compliments. Got us a woman of many talents.” He chuckles. “Though I know you didn’t bring me here to feed me fuckin’ cookies, just…” The man huffs softly, running a hand down his stubble. “Hell. This...?” Negan admires the usual comfy décor and bright, welcoming atmosphere of their modern house, already feeling like an intruder again. The familiar feeling stimulates flashing memories of when he’d instead made himself an honoured guest without a fuck to give. Vividly recalling exploring each room, cooking at the stoves, perched at the table and on the porch with his favourite little serial killer. Negan takes a breath. _Shit… he still missed that kid._

Michonne organises some cutlery on the side, just finding something to mentally prepare. Tilting her head down and tucking a dreadlock behind her ear, her interest piques when he trails off. “What?”

“Just didn’t expect _this._ Inviting me to your home, that’s pretty ballsy, for the head of security.” He eyes her carefully, half entering the pristine, openly spaced kitchen and propping himself against one of the walls. “Last time, I had a goddamn shovel.”

Furrowing her brows, she suddenly wondered if he’s testing her. Trying to uncover Negan’s motives always frustratingly intangible. “Well no one’s stopping you from repeating that. Though I doubt you’d get very far if you tried.”

“I ain’t intending to. You should know that.”

“Because you’re a changed man.” Michonne quotes with a drawl as she turns to lean her weight against the counter, brows shot up in challenge once more. It earns a tug at the man’s lips. “Finally seeing the world for more than it is? For what it can be? Things that can be done differently.”

He shrugs impassively. “Call it whatever you gotta.”

“How many other ways would you put it?”

“Adapting.” Negan doesn’t elaborate.

“Or… not being a maniacal asshole.”

Another chuckle resonates from him, before tilting his head up. “Why’d you really bring me here, dreads?” He wonders.

“To talk about you, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that.” She quips. “I need to know where you stand in our situation; in what’s soon to happen and what it will mean afterwards.” If there was an afterwards. “Part of this journey, is the end.” Michonne starts with an air of authority. “And you’re here to help with how it ends.”

Processing her words, the man’s eyes narrow. “I was under the impression I didn’t hold any power in that.”

“Circumstances have changed.”

“Huh. And how’s that? Am I _not_ to continue rotting underground? Dead or alive, or some kinda shit in between?”

Michonne scoffs lightly, folding her arms. “That depends on you.”

“Really. You know I can be so much more than your people give me credit for. You just gotta be willin' to take that chance. Come on, thought you guys had balls?”

“We also know you talk a big game.”

“Woah. Now hold on. Ever seen me go back on my word, Michonne? I’ve been nothing but straight with ya. Thought you people knew me by now.”

“So, you’ve said.” He’d certainly made a lasting impression. She hardens. “I may regret this, but I’m asking for your help because you know exactly how to deal with hostile groups. You assist us and who knows what could happen.”

A wicked glint reflects in his eyes, rich as earth’s soil, seizing the depth and weight of many untold stories while wetting his lips. “So, you’re saying my life sentence won’t mean shit?”

“I’m saying I’m considering it.”

“Shit, dreads.” Negan breathes, the inescapable grin sweeps across his face. “I grow on you that much?”

The unsuspecting warmth swirls in her chest. The need to defend herself strong, while he continues to prod and provoke, combating her inner sentiments to return a belittle tone. “Don't flatter yourself. I just want to do what feels right, for them. Since I relinquished most of my position, it’s not just my decision anymore. The council would have a final say after discussing it. That’s as good as it gets.” Michonne pauses. “I’ve no more had a change of heart than you have. Whatever reasons there are behind that.”

Negan holds his tongue, prodding the side of his cheek with a harsh scoff, remembering simply wanting to establish a connection with someone - with her - because his isolation had grown too suffocating. Having become starved of human interaction, the walls of his prison felt as though they crept towards him inch by inch, enclosing the man further and shrinking his stability. Through the worst, he couldn’t even rely on his darling Lucille to comfort him. She was gone. Negan had to rely elsewhere. _Nothing worse than nothing_ … It had all been something to cling to, made his years of imprisonment less shitty while he continued to watch the world leave him behind. Then seasons came and the little spitfire grew more indulgently curious about their prisoner while Michonne had strayed away following Rick’s death.

“Some will think exile.” Michonne frowns slightly, pushing past the dragged silence. “Course Judith wouldn’t let that happen and defeats the whole purpose of keeping you alive here.”

Negan troubles at the thought but seems to find comfort that the girl fought for him this far, turning his head to the staircase leading to the young Grimes’ room.

“Who knows? You could get out for good behaviour.” Michonne says dryly, quirking a brow while taking a sip of her water. Negan snorts, sensing him staring in her direction with something akin to fondness. Thought she could’ve been imagining it.

“What do _you_ think?”

Michonne pauses then, thoughts scattering as she lowers the crystal glass onto the counter with a sigh, walking round the island to stand level with him. Judith still believed he could be useful if given the opportunity, as much as Michonne hesitated with the idea initially. A probation, maybe? In the end, it all weighed on her shoulders. “I know you said that you could help us. Help this place. Help me.” Crossing her arms, Michonne studies him, wondering what they could devise together if she took the offer. “Why? Because you’d rather not watch another community fall apart?”

“Not a whole lot out there still standing.” Negan states, glancing through the pane at the bending, cosy streets of Alexandria. “This damn place rubbed off on me. Hell, since I first brought my people in here, I saw you guys were living fucking luxury and you’ve kept it going. Like I said, seeing something that worked for so long - a system - go to shit, it sucks ass.”

Michonne exhales roughly.

“Sure, I did try to blow ya guys to holy hell and back - ” Negan strains an inadvertent smile, finding it amusing when he probably shouldn’t right now.

“Mhm.”

“- _but_ , watching this place, what you built, people that follow and respect you even if they aren't on board with your decisions. Watching you _survive_. Seems a damn fucking shame to waste all that.”

She arches a brow, humming. She had an inkling there were other reasons he wasn’t willing to share. “Considering your last venture out there, as long as there’s walls, I’m sure it suits you fine.”

A noise vibrates in his throat. “Well, there is that.” His usual smirk falls flat as his tone turns sombre. “Nothing out there for me anymore, right?”

Despite herself, Michonne feels a deep, inner tug, like something jerking the strings to force her mouth open to speak. A deep breath pierces the thick silence encompassing them, focusing her attention outside. In the distance, the residents were in groups conversing with each other while their children were able to behave like children, faint melodies of music drifting into the air. Her mind unexpectedly reverts to the snowball fight that even Daryl partook in; a silly, childish game that drew out so many warm smiles. Michonne almost never had this.

“I was like you, before. I was on the outside. Nobody trusted me, I didn’t give them a reason to trust me. I didn’t kill their people, but I killed people. A lot. I stopped thinking of myself as a person, surviving on my own, the way I did. So, I didn’t know if I wanted to stay, didn’t know if I wanted people to trust me, to _see_ me. Before I had an answer for that, it was already happening. People were seeing me for who I really was. I wasn’t just another monster out there anymore. Through them, through good people, I came back.” Michonne’s chocolate eyes finally settle back to him, remembering all their faces. Breaking out of her old self years ago, it was as if she were blooming and stretching towards the sun, striving to live once more in all her colours. Perhaps her and Negan really were more alike than first depicted. 

“The point I’m making is whether you’d consider staying... contributing, as opposed to surviving in a cell all day, every day for however long you got left.” Michonne murmurs, the idea sounding absurd as she says it out loud. “To make something of yourself here. A new start. You have that chance _now_.” Suddenly these words felt familiar. _Where had she spoken them before?_

The man presents a sad smile, knowing her intentions all too well. “Can’t always get heroes out of people, Michonne.”

“I’m not asking you to be. Nor anyone else. Nobody asked you to be a hero when you saved Judith. I just wonder if you’re trying to be.”

Wavering, he dips his head to focus on the floor.

“And my daughter… If you stayed, you’d be staying for her too, I know that.” Michonne didn’t have to _like_ whatever relationship they had, but it had saved her life when Michonne couldn’t. It provided some comfort to know that if the worst ever happened to her, another would help to take care of Judith, keep her safe, protect her. The girl became a priority to him, and admittedly, she was grateful for that.

Michonne's warm manner was so unexpectedly inviting, like morning sun, that he found himself faltering, as though the optimistic woman from years ago began shining through the cracks again. Upon meeting Rick, he cursed the lucky bastard to encounter a woman like her when the world went to shit. Following on from captivity, slowly uncovering the kind of woman she truly is, the prick undoubtedly fucking _was_. Even if it wasn’t much, Negan was learning who Michonne was behind the sword and she was certainly fascinating enough that he desired to know more. Then there’s Judith Grimes, the little renegade that knew much of himself more than anyone had in a long time. He’d grown fond of her, practically adored her. She had reminded him so much of Carl and was a splitting resemblance to her mother sometimes.

“Huh. Sure sounds a lot like you wouldn’t want me to leave, either.” Negan teases, a dangerous smile forming when he knows he has her.

 _You think that's what this is? -_  was what intended to pass the gateway of her lips. Instead, a heavy silence settles over them, thicker than the rising tension. Michonne eventually huffs. “It’s not about what I want.”

“No? Come on.” Her persistent denial stirs him further, claiming victory while chuckling darkly. Though she doesn’t budge. “Damn. Always so serious. That’s gotta be exhausting.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s not much to laugh about these days.”

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong, dreads. Never fucking stopped me. When you start dangling your balls when the worlds at your feet again, you start finding your own ways of fun.”

“Believe me, I recall what you found fun.” She stares dispassionately, not all too fond of remembering such times. 

The former saviour laughs again mischievously. “I’ll bet you do. And I think you ought to enjoy yourself a whole lot more. Can't be good being this pent up all the damn time.” Eyes slip down to rake her form, mentally undressing her slowly. Maybe she’d love nothing more than to constrict her hands around his neck, on the spot. Unashamedly, the image as well as his swirling vulgar thoughts stir excitement in him. 

A familiar flush pools at her abdomen, grunting annoyingly at her body’s betrayal. That and the involuntary twitch at the corner of her lip. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yes I am. And you love that shit, don’t you?”

“You sound so sure about that.” She returns mockingly, wanting to strip that smug look away.

“My ass is sure of things you ain’t even yourself.”

Michonne shakes her head, looking away. “The hell do you think you know?” Her dispute holds no aggression, however.

“I know that _this_ , right now, my ass in your kitchen,” Negan starts, gesturing again. “In your goddamn home where you sleep. It ain’t all Judith.”

Michonne’s jaw tenses. Once again, standing before him, she feels exposed. A twisted turn of fate that Negan was the person to understand her more than anyone recently, what she wanted for the community, what she had done for the sake of everyone here. For her family. For Judith. Not all on his own probably, Michonne figures her daughter may have shared stories about her too, perhaps not intentionally, but she had her suspicions from the moment Negan locked eyes with the samurai that day and stated she’d been through more than enough already. Michonne catches the man leaning forward from her being silent for too long, snapping her head up.

“Look. I ain’t here to tell you what you feel, I'm not on that shit. Plenty of sentimental pricks 'round here to do that. But sure as hell, there’s something going on.” Negan’s eyes are dark but somehow soft, a sense of security in them while searching for any indication to what’s running through her mind. “Whatever it is, it ain't worth foolin' yourself over. That kind of shit eats you up and shits you out. I don’t think you want that.”

The man was contagious. A curse of the simple knowledge that spending enough time in someone’s presence, you’ll start to tolerate them. However, listening to his surprisingly tender voice, Michonne finds herself at a loss. No matter the rational side of her brain reminding her that he was the same man to kill her friends, among other things that she would never forgive him for. Yet the ugly truth was she had been tied to Negan for a while now and wasn’t entirely opposed to it. Because of her role here, she’d somehow isolated herself while he had a certain magnetism that drew her in gradually and began stripping Michonne of her defences as years progressed. Rescuing her daughter was simply the pinnacle.

“All I’m saying is you can kill the act now, sweetheart. Ain't nobody here, but you and me.” A voice strangely soft, barely a whisper.

“I don’t… know.” Michonne mumbles, feelings she couldn’t explain nor desire to confront, caught in her throat.

The older man’s burning stare pins her in place, absorbed and examining. The way their eyes bore into each other’s for what felt like an eternity, seems to ignite something within Negan as Michonne’s breath hitches when he begins closing the distance. Feet planted in place, she follows every movement like a hawk. Electricity surging between them when Negan incredibly boldly plants a hand on her slim waist. Despite the unexpectedness, she doesn’t apply distance, nor object, only staring in awe, surprise and flicking her eyes down to his lips in proximity. The action is quick, but he catches on as his pupils dilate, seemingly ready to drown in her if she lets him. The confliction is clear as day on Michonne’s face, clear she would’t be making a move.  

With lingering silence, her world collapses at the man slowly leaning in, gentle contact of his vulgar lips pressing to her own. The feeling is enough to accelerate her already hammering heart, thundering in her ears. Upon realising she hadn’t yet shoved him away, Negan melts into her with a sigh, pulling her muscular body closer. Too long to have been dancing around this desire, he was glad to be long past the days of her frigidness, finally conceding what they both already knew.

Negan's deep voice is like dripping silk. “Knew you’d loosen up for me sooner or later.”

“Asshole…” Michonne respires.

How this had escalated, she couldn’t answer, but as he deepens the kiss, her body and mind just, selfishly demand more, seeking more of that touch from another person. She should stop this. She should but can’t bring herself to do so. Before she’d even grasped, Michonne had reached out to cup his face as if to hold him there, her face scrunching up at the rising, burning passion that was ensuing between them. Her mind goes into automatic while Negan’s heart pounds in his chest so hard it threatens to burst, scolding himself for not doing this sooner. Finding her so intoxicating he couldn’t help but press harder into the kiss, like screaming out all his repressed, puzzling feelings that endangered to surface.

Michonne had more than gained his respect and admiration the longer he remained in Alexandria – hell, even before then - something many hadn’t since everything began. How much of a survivor she was, her determination as a leader, what bridges she would cross for those beloved to her, never taking shit lying down with her fiery spirit and unafraid to spill the necessary blood… so goddamn how can the man not find her fucking incessantly attractive? There was something else he was confident he’d lost along the way of surviving, incapable of feeling again. Yet for this woman, behind bars, it only devoured him to this breaking point.

When Michonne fully succumbs to her cravings, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, a quiet groan escaping her, Negan takes the initiative and runs his wandering hands down her sides eagerly. Tracing and exploring every inch of Michonne’s stunning curves, dazed sighs escaping as his growing excitement was already beginning to strain against the confinement of his pants. Suddenly everything else is irrelevant and non-existent to him in this moment.

He wanted her. Right here.

A small brush against his crotch as Michonne shifts on the spot, steals a breath out of him. “ _Shit_.” He hisses, a shiver travelling down his spine. _Jesus Christ._ The moment his fingertips graze her sickly scar to run up her bare slender back, he expects her to flinch. But there’s nothing.

Without a second thought, Negan pushes her backwards until the back of her haunches collide with the island, driving out a shaky exhalation from the gorgeous woman. The stench of lust fills the air around them, her body moving on its own accord as she grinds into him firmly, finding a friction that sends delicious jolts through her entire body. Pulling away for air, Negan sways his lips against the nape of her neck in a surprisingly gentle way, stirring more of that familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach. A single moment when Michonne feels the scruff of his stubble, lips against her skin, the slow, steady drag of his tongue, she sighs huskily, tilting her head back in bliss to expose more.

The small sound was enough to shoot another rush of hot blood down south like a damn shock, rousing the famished beast further. _Fuck._ _She trying to make him bust a nut in his fucking pants here?_ He can’t wait any fucking longer. Any other occasion he’d wanna take his sweet ass time. Make the samurai cave beforehand, watch her fall apart again and again, but he’s too damn impatient and desperate for that right now, wanting to take her before she came back to her senses.

Slipping hands under her perfect ass, he hoists her up effortlessly onto the counter top, Michonne bracing her arms behind her for balance. Negan practically rips at Michonne’s leggings with her help, yanking them along with her underwear down her parting legs like his life depended on it and tosses them both to the cold, hard floor beneath them. Diving back in to kiss her hungrily, he settles himself between her luscious thighs, hiking one up securely around his hip while panting from anticipation as he targets his belt buckle next. Pride washes over in finding her more than ready, yearning for this as much as he had, inner thighs glistening with her nectar. Wasting no time after lowering his fly, the material sinking down over his hips, Negan lines up his aching length against her heat, drenching himself in her sweet juices as he rubs between her pink, lush lips.

Leaning down until their foreheads were almost touching, with a small thrust and strained grunt, he enters her slick, tight channel. The feeling was euphoric. “Holy fuck...” Negan breathes a moan, mouth hanging agape. “ _Goddamn_. You are tight as hell.”

The samurai can’t hold back the dazed sigh that passes her lips at the intrusion, wrapping her bare legs around him like a vice, their bodies interlocking. Metal clicks of his loose, dangling belt ring in her ears with each pump of his hips, slipping in and out of her entrance with ease. Though still captive, the way Michonne’s bust bounces and sways at the force of his ministrations, the loud, slick noises between them, turn him on that much more. Negan’s hands are like fire against her smooth ebony skin, as she dips her own under his shirt and claws at his back, dragging her nails down his skin for leverage. The feelings wreaking havoc on her body are indescribable, losing herself completely in the high as she rides his white shirt up his torso somewhat, but his body is indulgent, incapable of pulling away once more to discard it. Stealing her plump lips once again in a sexually charged kiss, Negan growls, fucking her harder that she hardly knows what to do with herself. Michonne rocks her pelvis hard in time with his movements and fights back into the kiss, battling for control. He could only expect that from her, impassioned with every second of it.

“Fuck. _Shit_.” A string of curses pass through gritted teeth, dipping his hand to stimulate her swollen nub in circular motions, making her thighs tremble around him with a staggered gasp. He could almost laugh, recalling past, shameless fantasies of ravaging Rick’s proud warrior with reckless abandon during the time the prick bent over backwards for him. Behind Negan’s wicked grins were primal urges to put the man to shame, every time Michonne graced them with her presence. And yet, there was no trace of those intentions now.

Wanting to see her face, Negan moves over her thick dreadlocks, watching her twist in all kinds of ecstasy beneath him as he drives deeper into her body with a choked groan, trying to reach the deepest parts of what she felt for him. Goes without saying she would’ve never let anything remotely close to this happen if there wasn’t something at her core. Nevertheless, someone as strong and ruthless as her shaking and squirming in pleasure he was providing her, was something unforgettable, locking the image away in his mind for the rest of the time he had left. Hell, the feeling of Michonne’s clasping walls enveloping his dick was an addiction all on its own. Gradually getting rougher, Negan lifts one of her legs onto the countertop to stretch her out further, finding an unquenchable need to please her.

“God, _fuck_. You like that, huh?” He purrs, mouth moving quicker than his thoughts, unable to contain his satisfaction when all Michonne can do is groan in reply, if even attempting to. “Yeah, you do ~ ”

It wasn’t at all surprising to find him vocal during sex, but every passing word drove her body wild. Michonne can feel her toes curling from pleasure, unable to speak nor process anything, drunk on the sensation of him filling that sweet spot over and over. The head of his cock suddenly prodded at her cervix, forcing another sudden moan out of her that earns her one in return. Gnawing hard at her lower lip, it’s all she can do to keep herself from crying out, catching his intense eyes. In the end, barely managing two simple words in a hoarse voice. “D-Don’t stop.”

“No fucking way, sweetheart…” Negan replies with a breathless chuckle, feeling his grin turn into another deep groan as he drowns further into ecstasy. This woman was gonna be the death of him.

In the heat of the moment, a sheer determination to make her cry out his name overcomes him, announce her pleasure to the community outside as Negan ploughs into her, staring down at where they were joined, her arousal coating every inch of his shaft. An addictive mix of pain and pleasure shooting through him at Michonne digging her heels into the base of his spine, pushing him ever closer. 

However, to his dismay, he was already reaching close to his limit, wishing they could indulge for hours. Demanding thrusts lose their rhythm as the pressure builds, guttural growls in his throat while digging fingers into her thigh. A strong itch to flip Michonne over and pin her to the counter with her back arched and ass propped in the air soon conquered his thoughts.

“Fuck, Michonne…” Negan’s voice falls frail with approaching release, not letting up as he continues pounding her, determined to make her finish with him while having a sudden animalistic, overwhelming desire to mark her with his seed.

_Why had her name sounded so pleasing coming from Negan like that?_

Michonne feels the bubble in her loins growing ready to burst as her breaths grow shallow and desperate, her blood singing as she clings to him tighter as if eagerly trying to fuse their bodies together. The build was almost unbearable as her body teases her, but it all came tumbling down when a distinct noise travels within the house.

Dread sinks in at the sound of the young Grimes herself upstairs, footsteps making their way out of her room, down the creaking hall, to the staircase as she calls out.

“Mom…?”

Both freeze at the realisation of their situation. As much as it was the best fucking sensation, Negan didn’t want to be _that_ guy caught balls deep inside her mother. Pulling out from her heat and wrenching himself away with a curse under his breath, fumbling fingers begin fixing his belt and zipping up his fly.

 _Oh God._ With a look of terror, Michonne follows with wide eyes and hops off the counter to pull her leggings back on. Heart jumping in her throat, she spots her underwear on the floor, quickly brushing it around the corner with her foot and out of sight. Judith finally appears halfway down the steps, pausing at the scene. In that moment Michonne wishes the ground to open and swallow her whole. It must've meant RJ was home too. She almost hurls at the notion of potentially scarring her children.

“Hey kiddo.” Negan greets, managing to smile with a weak hand up in a wave. Judging by Michonne’s reaction, she hadn’t been expecting other company.

She tilts her head. “Mom? Why’s he here?” Judith questions, glancing between them before focusing on Michonne. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered by his presence, just curious. Rightfully curious.

 _Ah, shit._ Negan stared at the floor, the awkward air setting in as Michonne tries to come up with an answer. Only when she speaks does he finally steal glance from the corner of his eye, shifting uncomfortably. With how much he stuck out of place, an overwhelming sense of unbelonging and that he shouldn’t be here, he might as fucking well been caught with his pants down.

“Judith, why don’t you wait upstairs for me, okay sweetie? We’ll talk later. I just need a minute.” She silently prays for Judith to have been oblivious, suddenly grateful Negan had taken lead as she attempted to control her breathing, feeling a flush on her cheeks.

The silence that followed was unbearably drawn out that Michonne practically squirmed on the spot, like a teenager caught in the act. While it was evident the girl didn’t wish to leave, ready to spew all sorts of interrogations, she obeys anyway with a dramatic sigh, turning on her heel to head upstairs slowly.

Only when Judith was out of sight, not delaying with the intent of eavesdropping, Negan finally turned back to her with words on the tip of his tongue. As fucking much as he desired to continue what they started, he knew the moment was over and the mood was ruined. Her plastered expression right now wasn’t making anything any easier, evidently processing what just transpired. That look was a sight he pained to see right now. Seemingly, Judith had snapped her back to reality.

“Michonne – “

“ _Don’t_.” She interrupts with a whisper, not moving another inch from where she stood, fearing her legs may cave in. Although unable to look at the man, Michonne could feel the full force of his gaze on her. There was no trace of guilt in there, but of course why would there be? “Don't. Just, not now.”

Absentmindedly, she sought assurance and something to ground her as her hand reaches for the ring dangling on her necklace - only to find it hadn’t been there in the first place. The one, damn time she took it off earlier today... The bile in her gullet only grew worse as Michonne was forced to see what she’d let persist. It was still here staring her in the face and words could not describe the shame she felt. If their meeting had taken place in the underground cell, providing them the barrier they needed to stop them in their tracks, this wouldn’t have happened. Everything felt up to this moment, bubbling beneath the surface, was all one traitorous act.

Despite the gut feeling telling him to try reasoning with her, Negan knows it to be ineffective. Michonne hadn’t sounded angry, but he was given the impression she was sinking into a bottomless sea of regret as she appeared horrified with herself. Furthermore, he sensed his casualness about the act making things worse, ‘course he had no reason to feel ashamed about it. She just became to be someone he gave a shit about.

A breath he hadn’t known to be holding finally escapes. “I get it.” Negan spoke softly despite his growing frustration and unwillingness to depart, but given the circumstances, he was overstaying his welcome at this point. It took all his restraint to not reach out for her. “Look. She doesn’t need to know anything if you don’t want her to.”

 _Water under the bridge, huh?_ She didn’t respond. She couldn’t possibly fathom how her daughter would react if she knew. Then again what if she did already? She was a perceptive girl. Either way, there was no escaping it.

While remaining frozen in place, Michonne manages to lift her head enough to stare at his chest while nodding. Eventually, Negan decided to leave the house with the biggest fucking set of blue balls upon ever receiving, Michonne’s aroma still clinging to him, torturing him. As Negan trudges his way to another waiting escort back to his cell, it was obviously apparent of his raging hard on, but he couldn’t give two fucks. Resolving that issue later, he sure as shit wasn’t sleeping tonight. All he could do was hope Michonne wouldn't stray away again _…_  Not after this.

 

 

 

 

 

  

Using her best efforts to deflect the subject and sneak around Judith for now, Michonne needed the solitude. As the water cascaded down her slender form, like a warm, comforting embrace, her sighs filled the stall. Despite lingering under the spray, Negan just wouldn’t leave. It did nothing to cleanse her mind. Instead, it tormented her, forced her to relive their conversation beforehand, how pleasant his lips felt pressed against her own, strong hands caressing her body, hot breaths colliding with her skin, every pleasurable sensation that took her somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Caught in her own daze, Michonne’s jaw locks, finding her pulse racing once again and her hand having travelled south, a returning ache between her legs.

Had she become so lost to crave for companionship and the embrace of a lover again after so long? Or had it revolved around Negan? Either way, she hoped not. She’d been more than capable on her own before. Several years of it.

With an irritated flare of her nostrils, Michonne stepped back to lean against the frigid glass, holding herself as she stared down at the shower base, flowing streams of water escaping down the drain and almost wishing she could follow. _I don't believe this._   _What the hell is wrong with you?_   She seethed, loathing how she dealt with pesky business with Negan along with their much bigger threat that may be lingering right outside their walls of any waking hour. She suddenly had an urge to slam her fist against the glass. She refused to shed a tear over this, refused to let it drag her through the mud. Now wasn't the time for anything trivial. There were far more pressing matters.

At last, dusk pierced the sky and the rash cold air stroked her skin as Michonne volunteers to take a post on patrol to occupy herself, staring out into the distance and keeping any walkers at bay. With Alpha and her people out there somewhere, anticipating Alexandria to not take their final warning, she keeps a watchful eye out, cautiously scanning her surroundings. Along every treeline. Waiting for something. Something to happen. Keeping her busy long enough on high alert, the sky ultimately fades into deep, black velvet, stretching for miles with speckling jewels above them.

That was when Michonne decided to sneak out briefly, scaling the walls to hunt again, when her mind was troubled and restless. Guaranteed not the wisest decision considering their situation, Michonne doesn’t wander far. Evidently, she hadn’t been making the wisest decisions recently anyway. When all else failed, she always found strength from the dead. They helped her focus, since there was no one way or the other, no complicated way to feel about them. How messed up the situation was to find a sense of comfort in seeking out and putting down the walking corpses this way. A small feeling of dread reappeared that night at the haunting thought that any roamer she encountered could've potentially been one of _them_.

Returning home once sated, she began her routine of cleaning her stained blade and rinsing the repulsive blood and odour from her body. Feeling refreshed and more at ease, Michonne slipped into a comfortable, silver white bathrobe and wandered upstairs to put RJ to bed. Another breather she needed for the night.

With an innocent smile, the little boy curls up under the covers. “Goodnight, mommy.”

“Night, baby.” She whispered with a kiss to his temple, admiring his peaceful slumber for a second and stroking his dark hair. Michonne always loved the way his chubby little cheek would stick out as he pressed his face to the soft pillow. Maybe their innocence would bring back her own. “Sleep well.” Although adamant to leave, she knew Judith was expecting her.

Unfortunately, Michonne didn’t make it far before thoughts of Negan haunted her again in apprehension. That vision always there whenever she closed her eyes. She’d somehow allowed a small window of weakness to... The guilt hit her all at once again, feeling nauseous and perplexed at what hellish feelings she held towards the man. Apparently, not alone in working that out either. While Michonne remained clueless to what _Negan_ truly felt behind that mischievous grin, she never felt more like a spark was returning than in his presence. Absolution from her usual days of being nothing more than a dead husk of a person, retreating into her shell to carry on as leader.

Finally returning to her daughter, mustering all the courage to look her in the eye, she forces down the restless ponders. As soon as Michonne enters Judith’s cosy, light room and her eyes befell on the young girl’s face, it suddenly felt as though she hadn’t a worry in the world. Her bedroom was small and minimalist, containing an equally small single bed tidily made, the air carrying a scent of clean linen. A worn oak desk and drawers’ tucked against the wall, the wall that was once scattered with childish scribbles and paintings she treasured. All those little memories.

“Hey, you.” Michonne greeted warmly, only to be met with silence. She follows Judith’s gaze to the hanging drawing made of their family years ago. Her face drops within a second before composing herself, despite not a look shared her way. “You should be in bed.”

“So, should you.”

“Oh? Well you better get in bed now, then.” Michonne arches a brow, cracking a wide smile. “Brushed your teeth?”

“Mhm.” She nods.

“Good. Come on, I’ll read you a bedtime story.” Michonne pats her cheek affectionately, already walking over to the small stack located on Judith’s desk, browsing through the various titles with a thoughtful hum.

Judith pulls a face but climbs into bed nonetheless, sitting upright and holding the covers close. “Aren’t I too old for that, now?”

Michonne pivots on the spot to her with feigned offence. “Hey. You’re never too old for stories. Anyway, it’s for me.” She did her best to smile, lifting a chair and moving it beside her bed before setting herself down.

“Why? You okay?”

_No._ While her mind screamed otherwise, she nodded, reaching out to thread their fingers together tenderly for reassurance. She felt her face relax, the simple touch and warmth of her daughter always keeping her grounded. “Yeah, course. Just, long day.” Michonne exhaled tiredly, pausing for a breath with a curious tilt of her head. “Sweetie, I thought you and RJ were with Aaron and Gracie today?”

“We were, but we finished early. I wanted to do my homework and RJ wanted to come home. He got really tired, so he took a nap.”

“I see.”

There’s another pause. Judith looks troubled the more she searches her mother’s face, leaning in. “Mom? I know you don’t wanna tell me.”

Michonne’s heart stops. With a painful seizing in her chest, it’s indisputable the child spots the flash of fear behind her usually collected eyes. She wouldn’t feign ignorance to what she’s referring to at this point, she knew her daughter all too well, she was no idiot. Flicking attention to a crease on the pale sheets, Michonne sighed deeply.

“Why Negan was here.” Judith continued.

She shook her head slowly, treading carefully. “It’s complicated. I needed to talk with him, it was important in light of everything.”

“About what?”

“Whether or not he’s willing to help us.”

“With the bad guys?” She frowns almost judgingly, replaced with confusion in a flash. “I thought you didn’t trust him. You said everything he said was bullshit.”

“ _Judith Grimes_.” Michonne warned, brows raised high on her head.

“Sorry.”

“…I’m learning.” She says weakly with a short nod, still difficult to decipher whether Michonne does or not.

“Why? What changed?”

She wouldn’t know where to begin, nor where to satisfy Judith’s curiosity. Honestly, she would like to know the answer herself. “I did. I just finally started listening, to what you were telling me. And dealing with this kind of group, people like them, what they can do, we need all the help, all the expertise we can get.”

Suddenly devoid of emotion, her face becomes unreadable, glancing down at their joined hands. Michonne can’t escape the feeling Judith’s aware of more than she implies, stroking her thumb against her skin delicately. If so, she’s making an endeavour to hide it.

“Is it what my dad would’ve wanted?” She leans over to slide open a drawer to take out the miniature sheriff, handing it over.

Michonne felt another pang of sorrow, fingers running over the figurine so carefully at the fear of it breaking any moment. _Rick. I’m so sorry._ For the sake of her sanity, she assured herself that Negan wasn’t the same haughty, loathsome man he was during the war, not that it made much of a difference. It held no barrier to her wrongful attraction. Nothing killed a man more than his own head.

“Maybe. Your dad would always do the hardest things so no one else had to.”

“So, have you. I know I said it wasn’t right what you were doing; sending people away, turning our backs and not helping the others. Our friends. But no matter what, you’re always trying to keep everyone safe, you’ll do what you think is right.” Judith bows her head. “I know that. I just wanted my mom back.”

What _was_ even right anymore? The lines were beginning to blur again.  

“There’s been instances where, I thought I wasn’t the person your dad thought I was.” Michonne murmured, wondering if all Judith saw was a woman struggling. “Times where I felt lost. Dead and gone.”

The young Grimes furrows her brow, shuffling closer with a creak from her bedframe.

“You helped bring me back from this before and now you’re doing it again.” She chuckled shakily from staggering emotions. Michonne’s mind abruptly flashes back to the first time she embraced Judith, how she held her desperately close to her cheek as she wept for her own child, finally mourning. Now.. through all this she'd gained a daughter. A family. With a deep breath, Michonne tapped her fingers against the hardcover. “Come on, it’s late.”

Although there were many things left unspoken, it was a step, in which direction remained ambiguous. Michonne peels open the book and begins reading through the pages, a little wear and tear but good enough. She knows to anticipate another talk on the horizon, she could recognise it on Judith’s face every time she glanced in her direction. But that was for another day. Additionally, like it or not, Michonne acknowledged she was to make a reluctant return to that cell soon.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michonne tries to occupy her restless mind with work duties around Alexandria and late hunts outside the walls, but it may prove too much for her when Negan shares more than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | It has been a long wait but I'm back with a new chapter. Life happened and had terrible writers block. I want to say a big thank you for all the support and comments, as I'm always excited to write and share more. I'll give you guys compensation for your patience in the next chapter ~

 »»————-　　                                                                                                                    ————-««

 

Four days.

Negan clutched at the worn, leather cover, glowering as though receiving its insults and battles the urge to toss it aside. But he was limited to what would occupy his time. Fingers gliding across his scruff in forced concentration, he still fails to drown out every sound from beyond the narrow windows. Upon realising he had read the same sentence countlessly, Negan slackens his grip with a heavy, defeated sigh, rubbing at his tightened brow. The impatience and exasperation were burning beneath his skin.

It had been four days, but through the dragged, lonesome hours it had felt agonisingly longer. Through gentle light and thin streaks of clouds trailing across an azure sky, to bursts of amber fading into hollow darkness with gleams of moonlight, were his only semblances of time in here.

What grated him, was the ignorance to whether she intended to avoid him or not, what action she would take next. It was too soon to tell. He was never one to stand being left in the dark, especially where he was concerned. Now practically snapping his head up every time the door groaned upon opening, expecting to see a flash of those dreadlocks and proud stance but it never came. He needed to see her face.

Restless, Negan shoots up from his cot and begins to pace again inattentively like the caged animal he is. A hand drags down his face as he leans his back against the wall adjacent to the bars, slowly sinking down to continue his state of excruciating boredom. It wasn’t until he’d set foot in Michonne’s house again, he realised the view of this cell was starting to piss him off. Even that hanging plant growing in the corner didn’t do shit.

Voices passing outside directs his attention to the window where Negan spots a distinct, stagnant shape perching on that same step often occupied by a certain young girl. He finds it fucking fitting. He suddenly piques interest into how long she’d been there in silence. Had she wanted to sit there at a safe distance? Either way, it doesn’t prevent the half smile twitching at his lips with deep relief, a tension renouncing within him as soon as the situation sinks in. With a soft groan, Negan rises to his feet and saunters to the opposite wall of the cell, leaning his weary body against the concrete and angling himself to get a perfect view of Alexandria’s illustrious warrior. Between the monotonous space of his cell and bright, temptation of the outside, it was like being caught between two worlds.  True enough, Michonne was the figurative key to either one.

“Huh. Look who’s here.” Negan presents a teasing tone, attempting to start whatever this was, lightly. That deep southern accent shining through.

The subtle turn of her head could’ve been easily missed had he not already been fixated on her. She remains unresponsive as seconds drag by, sensing Michonne’s not in a mood to humour him.

“Not gonna talk?” He asks disappointingly. Whilst grateful for the woman’s presence at all, he’s been at a prolonged war with silence long enough. “Right. Probably some heavy-duty shit weighing on your shoulders.”

Staring at the wall, he awaits an answer, but Michonne never takes the bait, nor could he tell from her expression what was going through her head. Although, she looked at war with herself.

Negan’s earthly eyes continue to find their way back to her whenever tearing his gaze away. Upon observing, she was clad in that deep burgundy top that clung to her torso and freed those slender yet muscular arms, allowing him to trace her smooth, alluring skin that almost appeared polished in the sunlight. He gestures below with a small shrug. “You plan on bringing that in or…?”

It seems to take a second for Michonne to realise she was still grasping the tray in her palms, the varied smells of fresh food invading the cell and filling his sinuses. “I was planning to. Then had second thoughts.”

“That starving me out suddenly doesn’t sound so bad?”

Michonne doesn’t retain a scoff, feeling the roll her eyes. “Of course not.”

“What? Afraid you’ll come down here and not wanna leave or somethin’? Afraid my damn good company will induce ideas?” Negan smooths the last word, not withholding the wicked smile either, his pulse racing at the prospects. “You know I won’t do shit.” The silence grows loud and heavy then, tension seeping into the air while holding his breath as he anticipates her leave, not before her usual declaration of denial.

“And here I thought you were done emitting bullshit.” The sourness thick in her voice, watching Alexandrians in the distance to settle the unsteady beats of her heart.

Unfazed and instead detecting her abstain, Negan chuckles with a grin spread cheek to cheek, resting his head against the wall gently. “Oh, you should know me better than that. Though thing is. My bullshit’s the closest you all got to the truth. Sure as hell, people don’t take it lightly comin’ from an asshole like me.”

Michonne made a noise of regret, perhaps coming here was a mistake this time. She was on her last nerve and Negan loved to play on it. Repeatedly.

“Come on. Can’t begrudge a man’s fantasies when he spends days staring at a damn wall.”

“How awful for you.” She quipped with an air of humorous annoyance that only he could bring out of her. “Either way, you’re mistaken.”

“Yeah? Lay it on me.” Negan’s amusement lingers only for a moment, shooting her an expectant look with a tilt of his head.

“Surprisingly Negan, your tongue-in-cheek’s not what I need to focus on these days. We have a real threat and more people’s lives are at stake.” Michonne starts, her features hardening. “We’re running out of time.”

The small sinking feeling in his stomach gives way for unwavering curiosity but she doesn’t continue, so all that was left was to probe some more. ‘Course, he knew this position well, in different circumstances but he’d known what it was to prepare for war and searching for a system for less casualties. Even now, Michonne was putting on a strong front for the people who depended on her, something he always admired about her.

Negan murmurs softly. “Talk to me.” It was almost pitiful how it had come full circle, begging for the samurai to stay and converse with him.

Considering his invitation, it almost sounded like pleading. Michonne reluctantly stands and begins trekking down the stairs, a feeling of anticipation settling in her abdomen. Once again, Negan was more than willing to listen to her. Each step loud in his ears, Negan approaches the bars slowly to meet her halfway. The door strains open, sending a blast of cool air into the room. Footsteps echo inside once again in the hollow space before she finally appears holding the tray, moving closer to set it down on the concrete floor. Fixated on her, Michonne appeared like an animal unsure of approaching a potential predator.

Dropping Negan’s stare to the food tray briefly to satisfy her, he spots a familiar sight of a baked cookie perched on the side. The small touch is enough to make his features soften noticeably.

“By the way,” She begins, instantly catching his attention. “I want all of this gone. No excuses.”

Such a remark was enough to stir memories, tittering to himself as her commanding tone effortlessly stirred something else. Smirking immorally, Negan saw an opening for a little fiendish fun. “Yes, Ma’am.” He purred, spotting her shift in demeanour and narrowed unfaltering gaze. “How _are_ things holdin’ out up there? Sure sounds like people readying their shittin’ pants.” He bemuses with a lick of his lips.

With a noise that rattles her body, Michonne returns without a miss at his toying. “You know exactly what’s going on. Since when have you stopped having your insights?”

“I just really wanna hear it from you.”

Already seeming irritated at whatever games he planned to play, she folds her arms. “As I said, we’re running out of time. Everyone’s restless and they should be. We’re preparing all we can, but it already feels like it’s not enough. Others are just getting impatient. I can't have them doing anything reckless.”

He nods slowly. “I know it kills ya to be sitting on your ass.” Negan presses again with more flash of teeth. “You know you gotta cross ‘em first, right? Sooner or later they’ll be crawling right outside your damn door and you’ll have nowhere to run.” He spots something in her deflate briefly at his words.

“We can’t fight them on our own, even with Hilltop and the others taken in from the Kingdom. They can control the walkers, increase their numbers strategically and with concealment. They can use so much against us. We need to confront them somewhere where _we_ have the advantage.”

“Thinking of smoking ‘em out?”

Michonne suddenly lifted her head and stared as if in deep thought. “Something like that.”

He blinked slowly, clicking his tongue and slipping his hands into his pockets while Michonne shifts on the spot. “Gotta be something skin walking pricks don’t have in their favour.”

“If we had more of an understanding on how they fought, it’d be a start.” She suddenly remembered, they had someone on the inside. Who better than the daughter of their leader herself?

Negan turned his head and understood, coming to the same conclusion. “The girl?”

“She knows them more than any of us. Though I’m not sure how far she’s willing to help if she has any loyalty left for her mother.” Michonne felt pained at the idea of pulling the girl aside for information at the possibility of reliving tormenting memories. She couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d endured, but it seemed the best advantage for their situation currently.

“Shit’s worth a shot.” He spoke bluntly, as if disinterested.

“I’ll pick my moment.”

Negan nods and purses his lips before staring off to the side, processing the situation. The conversation seems to reach an end as Michonne ponders it over, hoping she wasn’t planning to leave so soon already. Travelling back and taking her in attentively, he waits a considerable while before attempting it. He heaved a sigh. “Michonne – “

Before he can finish, she feels the mood shift and stands defiantly as though reading his thoughts. “Negan. I wasn’t planning on approaching the subject.” Michonne wasn’t in the mind for a confrontation about this, especially when it was barely acknowledged that she indeed held some sense of attraction and emotional connection to the man. But he made no intention of dropping it.

“Like hell you weren’t.” He scoffs in a teasing manner. “But I gotta ask, is it really that fucked?”

Perplexed and flashing him an expression that what he’d said was utterly absurd, she finally takes a bold step forward. “This isn’t the time.”

She could leave.

“Ain't a time as any, got a war up your ass, sweetheart.” Negan shrugs indifferently, giving a penetrating stare while his tongue prods his cheek. “Outta get shit off your chest.”

She _should_ leave.

Battling profusely with herself, she eventually complies with a firm huff, once again roped into verbal jesting. “How the hell is it not? After everything that’s happened. You’re in here for a _reason_.”

“Damn. You’re gonna be stubborn as hell about this, aren’t you? Years wastin’ down here, paying for shit I did, it ever occurred that maybe I got shit worth livin' for like the rest of ya. Hell, you were the one stirring on about starting over, happy fucking housing, or have you gone back on that?” ‘Course even if he wasn’t forced out of Alexandria, how would settling in even ensue? He pauses, reading her face closely before lifting his head in realisation. “Ohhh. You’re already beginning to trust me, and that scares you, don’t it? That you already rely on _me_ more than some people around you.”

Without hesitance, Michonne takes another step forward, challenging him once again. “Don’t presume to have it figured out.” She chastised. “There’s just been unusual happenings.”

Negan then chuckles darkly, closing in as he gingerly wraps fingers around a bar. “Fine. Say I’m full of shit -”

“You _are_ full of shit.”

He drops his head with an involuntary smirk at her swift response. Something about it always tickled him. “Christ. And you’re still a broken record, dreads. All I’m saying is that it’s not that _startling_ if ya think on it _._  You and me? We’re the ones in this place where their head’s where it’s gotta be.”

She frowned incredulously. “That means nothing.”

“It means a lot. Just something else you don’t wanna see.”

“Yeah? How would you know, what I want?” Michonne quirks a brow.

“What you want’s been a whole reason why you keep comin’ down here to talk to me. Why you’re willing to trust me.” Depraved of her touch, the urge to reach out and touch her chin itched at his fingertips, disordered where that urge had stemmed from in the first place. “Why what happened… happened. Ain’t nothing worth being ashamed of just ‘cos you're feeling  _something_.”

And was a reason she was still here even listening. Michonne slowly shook her head. Being suddenly distracted by the proximity and familiar masculine scent invading her senses, somehow only inches remained between them. She couldn’t quite read it, but Negan’s expression was unusually tender. A sudden feeling of security in them. Catching dark orbs travelling down her face and landing on her parted lips, she experienced that same magnetic pull while Negan inhales deeply as if he were fighting a strong impulse. Breath hitching, Michonne puts distance before her face could flush any more with unexpected heat, tucking a dreadlock behind her ear. Everything was less hazy when she loathed the man and would’ve dealt with the threat herself if not having been intervened. Now where she stood, she just wanted to probe questions to herself of how things escalated here. How had this former Saviour worn her down, and gotten under the wire? Perhaps with distance, these swirling emotions would eventually disappear.

“It’s 'cos of Rick, ain’t it?” Negan practically tore the question engraved in his mind from his throat. Making effort to hide the bitterness and suppression of an irritated sigh, Negan never knew the name would continue to haunt him this severely, even now still a thorn jammed in his side. But he understood the man was the cause of her wavering, the obstacle from what could lead to something. Maybe.

She froze momentarily.

“Don’t go there.” Michonne warns dangerously, revealing the afflicting thoughts he’d expected. However, pushing buttons was an effective way to get her to open up, albeit in a red mist.

“Balls to the walls, darlin’. Whatever it is you’re holding onto, gotta let that shit go. Goddamn it’s been years, it’s okay to want things for yourself again… ‘Sure as hell don’t deserve a black fucking veil ‘til you die.”

“And what about you?”

Negan huffs lightly, a little thrown off by her question, his eyes softening somewhat sombrely as they sink to the floor. “My wife… I’ve been without her for so long, she deserves to rest.”

Michonne seems to falter a little at that. Since upon being the prisoner, Negan had been without his precious bat and made small attempts to retrieve it in the past, but she was stunned to hear how much it didn’t seem to rattle him as much anymore. She was uncertain where this conversation was heading but her heart began hammering as Negan continued to press further.

“Somethin' tells me dear Rick wouldn’t wanna see you this way. Sure, not screwing around with someone like me but… was it good for ya?”

The samurai bristled at the ribald question. “What?”

He mused at her widening eyes and flustering as a lopsided grin appeared on Negan’s lips. He fucking thrived on teasing her but decided to clarify. “Wasn’t referring to that sweetheart, but _good to know._ Sure, had it been redneck Daryl, your friendly neighbourhood baby Doc, hell even Gabe, would’ve made this easier, right? Shit. Gabe. Now that would’ve been a real kick to the balls. Got enough trouble in paradise.” Negan sniggered, shaking his head. An amusing image but not one he’d wished to acknowledge further. That love quadrangle needn’t have any more interference either, they could fucking start a whole goddamn community on their own. 

Michonne arches a brow, resisting the tug at her lips. Naturally, he was far from jaded with the subject. “You finished?”

“Nope ~ ” He flashed playfully, nodding at her, before seriousness returned to his voice. “Point is you wanna move forward, you ain't one to mourn and prune right? Still, you can’t accept that someone like me makes you feel more alive than anything, so you hold on to guilt. You get off on that or somethin’?”

With a laugh that also came as a groan, she walks away for a moment, retreating to stare at the colourless wall and focusing on the individual cracks. Just, anywhere but him. “Just because it gave you an excuse to live out twisted fantasies and ideals, doesn’t mean the same for me.”

“Michonne.” He starts, and the way he says her name so warmly seizes her unyielding attention. Her eyes appeared.. vulnerable. “Don’t be wastin’ time over the dead. You’ve been through enough.” The words were cruel, but it was the hard to swallow truth she needed to hear.

Finally, Michonne took a breath and turned to him, locking eyes. “Tell me. Why do you care?”

“Jesus. It that hard to understand from all this, that I give a shit about what happens to you? When I saved your ass on that run, holed up in that gnarly building that reeked of hell's asshole, and went to fucking freak town on those roamers, I would do all that shit again. So you'd keep survivin'.”

The last grievous blow had been Carl, the wounds still there and knew he wasn’t alone in that. How someone so steadfast, bold and badass could be brought down like that was beyond him. Begrudgingly, the infamous Grimes abruptly appeared in his mind also, recalling the initial disbelief he’d felt upon learning of his departure, of the stubborn asshole who seemed to constantly dodge death. ‘Course the good Sherriff would kick the damn bucket in self-sacrifice like that.

Suddenly Negan’s grip on the bar tightened, a twist in his gut.

Until now, he hadn’t fathomed the possibility of Michonne not returning for real, for her to suddenly disappear too, whether in battle, on a scavenge run or knowing her, on a goddamn rescue mission. Since the beginning Negan had witnessed many people around him perish. Weak people. Those that relied on him too much for their survival, he’d long grown desensitised to their deaths when it proved useless to place dependence on anyone. Dehumanizing them to dead-weights not worth shit. Upon building the Sanctuary, Negan desired to strengthen people, to follow his example and reduce the fear of the outside world to fucking nothing but the dirt of their boots. To learn that it was theirs for the taking. Yet the communities he once antagonised and submitted to his will proved even stronger in unity. They showed fears and weaknesses, but they were still strong survivors, they’d earned that. And now no longer would Michonne be a fallen, nameless enemy, but a person he’d somehow grown to appreciate, and he knew without a doubt her daughter would join the frontlines of battle. The kind of shit that apparently ran in the family. All the more reason Negan’s mind was roaring, tension seeping into his jaw the more he pondered the possibilities. Losing the only people to truly give a damn about him.

However, his uncommon thoughts and actions were separate beasts unable to be steered properly. He had no intention of giving her the illusion he could be a good man. Lifting his head, Negan smoothed it all over with a signature, shit-eating grin. “You know, it ain’t courtesy to leave someone hanging.” Negan teases with a chuckle. Well shit. That weakness was still inside him even now.

Rendered beyond speechless, Michonne was certain she had misheard him. Those words, to be coming from Negan.. It felt unreal. Her emotions were running high at what the man before her confessed and somehow, she was compelled to believe them. That is until an alarming, crushing thought came to mind like a tidal wave.

“Listen to yourself.” Michonne shuddered a breath, shaking her head while backing away. “No. What’s your angle?” With that, the older man’s smile drops the moment she strays away from the bars and a disturbed look plasters her features.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is it implausible? To think that you would get close for your own benefits, break me down somehow. If not from the outside, then on the inside.”

Negan was getting perturbed now. “You really believe that, huh?” The wounded flash of his eyes didn’t go unnoticed, only becoming more prominent when she hesitates to answer. The woman was slipping through his fingers.

“I don’t want to, but I have to consider it.” Michonne looks pained at the thought, bile rising in her gullet. “There’s been many chances to those that don’t return the favour. From that, more people have died. The last thing I need is a repeat of that.”

Studying her, the former saviour could tell she was afraid of him betraying all of it, becoming his old self again or worse. Fearing too much freedom would get to his head. He wondered just what kind of people before him their group had survived through. Frustration sinks in and envelops him. It still didn’t change shit that he just - “Then what’re you waiting for? What more I gotta do to prove shit to you? Name it. And we'll see what happens.”

“Negan. What’s happening now, all of this, is a lot bigger than you and me.” Michonne was close to seething at this point, her face taut.

“You’re right. It is. So why not goddamn say what you need to _now,_ dreads. Say to shove it up my ass and walk outta here if you gotta. That’d sure do us a fucking favour, huh.”

She shakes her head, glossing over with that detached, icy tone returning. “I have work to do.”

Instead, Michonne steps back and simply leaves the cell, cruelly refusing to give any sort of closure. Meanwhile, Negan rests his pounding head against the cool metal, cursing under his breath, waiting for the burning ache in his chest to stop.

 

 

 

 

 

As daylight dragged, Michonne arranged another council meeting away from Negan’s prying ears to discuss their progress. Listing possible strategies and options opened to them, hoping to come to some sort of consensus. Thankfully the subject of Negan wasn’t brought up, sensing enough unease boiling inside each person sat at the engraved table, scanning each of their faces trying to mask their dread of the unknown. But it felt refreshing to have a feeling of unity again, after her blunders.

Later strolling around the perimeter on the gravel paths after performing the same mundane tasks, the samurai watched closely as rattling metal of the gate being dragged open allows a vehicle to set out for the Hilltop Colony, while supplies and artillery were collected for inventory. The community was bustling. The crops were attended to beside her, briefly glancing up at the towering windmill they’d constructed from past sketches and blueprints. Upon then, she noticed the unusual sight of painted, golden letters of _‘Sun and Steel’_ scattered around on various metallic walls, furrowing her brow in curiosity. Some cryptic, motivational message perhaps? There had been instances of this before, and more people seemed to show faith. Suddenly her adorable, cheerful son waddling over to her as fast his stubby legs could manage averts her attention, melting her troubled heart as she leans over to greet him with open arms.

“Hey, you!” Michonne cooed with delight as she lifted RJ up into the air and in her arms. "What are you doing, huh?” She tilts her head at him playfully, walking over to the closest set of steps. Perching quietly and embracing her son while Judith trains at the bridge, she nuzzles her cheek against his, feeling the smile slowly fading.

Rolling thunder shatters the peaceful silence as Michonne’s attention is lured to the foreboding clouds gliding overhead, casting a shadow upon Alexandria. Another storm’s brewing. Impetuous rumbling permeating the air. Shaking away the perturbed feeling, she pulls RJ closer and taps his nose affectionately, bringing a joyful grin to his face, when Aaron suddenly approaches them both, motioning to the empty spot beside them. She nods in approval and brows drawn together in concern, he lowers himself closely next to her.

“You okay?” He leans in a little.

“Hard to say.” With a raise of her brows, she continues to bounce little RJ, embracing him close to her chest, safely in her arms. No. Don’t let them see you break resolve. Don’t let them see you bleed. Don’t let them see you cry. “I’m fine.”

Finding his own difficulty in what words to say, Aaron nods to himself before catching her hesitance. “You sure?”

Michonne gives another in return, and for a moment the pair sat together silently, although apparent Aaron had wanted to address something with her. She had an inkling of what it was. “How soon do you see them on us? Days? Weeks? Months?” Michonne brings up the subject gravely, glancing in his direction out of the corner of her eye.

The man sighs, the weight of the situation heavy in the air as he continues to stare at the ground, his face plastered in turmoil.

“Tomorrow?” She adds.

“I don’t know, Michonne.” Aaron barely mumbles. “I’d like to think they’re biding their time, but these people, they have been anything but predictable. All we can do is be ready.”

“Ready or not, this won’t be like the Saviours or anybody else for that matter.” Michonne shakes her head. “Before, we were fighting people with guns. This? This seems like a whole other world. They're dangerous.”

He looks at her then sympathetically. “We’ll do what we have to. Whatever happens. It’s your call.”

“You know I talked about that.”

“I know. And I shouldn’t have operated behind your back like I did, even with the best intentions. What you were trying to do after having gone through, I understand. And I never truly apologised for – “

Michonne holds up a hand, not eager to dwell on the cursed memory of Alexandria's children being kidnapped by her very own friend.. “It’s okay. It’s in the past. We’re all here together now, so we’ll all operate together.”

“You were always best on the offensive.” Aaron breathes, earning something between a grunt and a snigger from her. “All that aside, your judgement I trust.”

And if she didn’t _completely_ have faith in herself?

“Surviving one threat to the next. There’s gotta be more than this.” Michonne’s features soften, staring off into the distance, whilst entwining her fingers with RJ’s who gnawed on his other hand while staring widely curious at Aaron. There was more of a future that Rick and Carl both wanted. One of peace and order, slowly rebuilding the world that was taken. “Bad enough dealing with the undead.”

The expression that Aaron sends her way revealed similar feelings, words swirling on the tip of his tongue. Michonne sensed it. She wasn’t alone. Everyone was drained. Exhausted. So tired of fighting, so tired of loss, regardless how unavoidable it was. Rick once spoke that there will always be people to fight, there will always be someone willing to destroy or take what they have, and the only way was to vanquish them before they had the chance. Yet, no matter how bleak the future seemed, no matter the dire situation, the people of the Safe-Zone, Hilltop, and what remained of the Kingdom, still clung to the belief of reaching light at the end of the prolonged tunnel.

“There is, and for a long time we achieved that. It’s out there.” Aaron spoke warmly, seeming vindicated.

Michonne offers the smallest of smiles and nods in agreement before a figure passes her line of sight, a flash of that messy, midnight hair and slim build. The sole survivor of the border massacre. Something between a light groan and growl settles in her throat, the doctor’s grave speech describing what occurred running through her mind as if taunting her. Though much time had passed, her suspicions remained. Aaron seemed to follow suit judging by his reaction, the wheels turning in his head.

“You still think he’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know. Something just doesn’t sit right, something I can’t shake off.” Narrowing her eyes, she tracks Siddiq’s movements like a hawk. How they’d discovered him was the trigger. “You didn’t find it suspicious? Killing them all but choosing to keep him alive. Why? Was it by random choice? To send us a message? Butchering our people at the border like that was loud and clear enough. To strike fear in us?” She rationalised. “To cause discord?”

“You think there may have been an instigation?”

She hummed. “I don’t wanna believe it but I’m saying there’s a possibility, I’m just ruling things out. I’m not about to interrogate him unless he gives me a reason to.”

Aaron stays silent, sensing the fear she had of being deceived again by someone close. Siddiq and Michonne had been joined at the hip for some time, now to her despair, was caught in the grey of whether to trust her intuition or not. “All we can do for now is keep an eye out.” He sighs. “Suspecting our own? Hard to believe it’s come to that.”

“Seems everyone is having problems with trust these days. I won’t make the same mistakes again.” Michonne says somewhat sternly, before shutting her eyes momentarily as a thought came to mind to calm herself. “Then again, I trusted _you_ when you found us at the barn, and you brought us here. That’s something I’ll never be able to repay enough.”

Aaron exhales and smiles sadly as he reaches over to offer a gentle touch of her shoulder, RJ’s eyes beaming with wonder at him for a moment before he pulls away. The streets were awash with various shades of grey carpeting the sky, only a chink of light managing to break through occasionally, the virescent hues muted to dullness while the air became humid and heavy.

“Michonne. You really want _his_ help?” He questioned cautiously.

Ah. There it was, as suspected. Michonne avoids the twitching of a humourless smile, making a noise of disinclination. She knew she couldn’t evade the topic of Negan for too long, it would be addressed sooner or later. “That’s a strong way of putting it.” Michonne started. “Regardless of what he’s done, Negan managed to keep hundreds of people alive, he knows about hostiles and how to draw them back in a fight. He had numbers then, but it was for damn sure he knew what he was doing. Negan’s smart. Not to say it all rides on him, but he could be something we’re missing. Fact remains, that he’s our best shot.”

A pause drags out for too long before he grunts uncomfortably. He wasn’t convinced. “…Fine. You say he’s our best shot. Can you really trust _him_?”

_Maybe I already have._ “I’m working on that. But I can’t afford to not take the risk. If we had him here in the open working under supervision, then people would see for themselves. If we’re all going to be allies in this fight, then we need to be able to be around him. Keeping him locked and buried below in the dark won’t change things.”

“How do we know Negan wants to help us? And why would he want to?”

“He pressed me about it. Whatever his reasoning, I know he wants my trust.” She countered, though it didn’t provide much of an argument, not wanting to reveal more than she had to.

“You don’t think it’s a ruse? He seems able to talk to you but, he could try to run again or force himself back into power. We know what he’s capable of.”

Michonne grimaced. While it was true the man had a beguiling personality, the former leader’s words back at the cell reflected hurt when she’d accused him of the same. It was a novelty to hear him sound earnest and genuine. As well as… everything else he had confessed. An unpleasant feeling caught in her throat. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when it comes, but somehow I doubt it will.”

“You sound so sure. I don’t know if I can be.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll handle it. Negan’s been more or less my responsibility, since Rick.” Michonne takes a breath and glances back in his direction. It was time to follow through with her choice. “It’ll work. It has to.”

Aaron appears to be processing the conversation, and while Michonne prepared for a further debate, he nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Like I said, it’s your call. I just hope you’re right.” With that, he plants a hand on his thigh and makes to stand.

“Yeah, me too. Hey…” She starts, not desiring to leave the entire discussion on such a heavy note. Aaron turned back in concern. Hazel-green eyes scanning her face while she took him in on what to say. “I ever tell you how well you wear that beard?”

It was a ludicrous comment but seemed just what was required. The moment Aaron dips his head bashfully, breathing a chuckle with an embarrassed smile, Michonne feels the tension melting away as a playful smirk appears on her lips.

“Yeah, um…” He begins, placing hand on hip and gesturing to the bush of hair that was close to going out of control. “Gracie seemed to like it too, couldn’t latch her fingers off sometimes.”

Flashing a toothy grin at the adorable image, Michonne giggles, the sound almost strange to her now. Each giving a smile of parting, Aaron leaves to attend elsewhere, leaving her to the thoughts that flooded the moment she was alone. What troubled her internally was what Negan was giving her - more than ruffling her feathers and stirring intense emotions. It was slim but it was there, under haughty words. Hope. One that took many shapes and forms. A hope to formulate and defeat their enemy, a hope to rebuild the order and unity of the council and residents, a hope to make something more of Alexandria, and most importantly a hope for Judith’s, RJ’s and everyone else’s future. Observing the scene before her, she didn’t want to be caught in the familiar trap of finally gaining hope, only to have it painfully teared away from her clutches again. Her and Negan, putting the past transgressions, their differences and other complicated, forbidden feelings aside, they needed to be allies. They needed to co-operate with each other through this dangerous, desperate time for everyone’s sake.

 

 

 

Illuminating the room in a tawny glow, Michonne sat downstairs by her lonesome at the oak dining table, encircled by books while ogling at a map of the surrounding area, taking note of the different landscapes, each passing road and possible safe routes. There had to be something she could use. Eventually she severed her concentration with a fatigued sigh, glancing around the dining room with distractions of décor, before lingering on the mellow embers of light from the nearby candles. Suddenly the room felt darker. She was unsure of what it was, but there was an underlying feeling of hollowness to this house, though she was unable to understand the reasoning behind it. It had provided her comfort, stability, security and a loving family, so why? Pushing away from the table, Michonne extinguishes the flames and tucks the loose sheets of paper inside the hardcover books, returning to her bedroom to retire for the night.

However, lying in the luxurious bed, she tried sinking into slumber from its comfort, the soft pillows cradling her head, but Michonne’s sleepless form tossed and turned under the silky covers, her restlessness coming back to torment her again. Something in her mind just couldn’t settle, perhaps it was the routine she’d adjusted to a long time ago of there always being something to do.

“Son of a…” Michonne whispered in exasperation.

Exhaling sharply though her nostrils, she rolled onto her back to stare up at the bare ceiling, fixated on tracing the faint cracks while waiting for exhaustion to take her. Only, her weary eyes absently cast upon her katana propped up on display to the wall, temptation itching at her fingertips. Something about it was calling to her again. With a sudden desire to clear her head, Michonne swiftly threw the covers aside to grab the sword and sheath before carefully stepping across the landing and down the creaking, wooden staircase to slip away quietly. Upon exiting the house, Michonne quickly scanned the seemingly empty streets for any wanderers, counting those that were on patrol at the gate. Sneaking around the closest fence line, she begins scaling the metallic wall before dropping gracefully to the ground with the crunch of twigs and grass beneath her boots and chirping insects of the night filling her ears.

Dense trees and overhanging leaves provide coverage and allowed her to blend into the shadows, as Michonne stalks the area with her sword trained in hand. Allegedly heading east from the perimeter fences, she follows the sounds of flowing water to stumble across a stream which undoubtedly would’ve been a beautiful sight in the daytime with its glittering surface, however several walkers growled and shuffled through the currents towards her as soon as she alerted them of her presence. With a grunt, she lures the corpses closer to the riverbank and begins leading them away to avoid contaminating the water.

Eventually coming across a small clearing, Michonne steps out and twirls her sharpened sword, turning ready to meet the undead tailing her emerging from the vegetation, the numbers having grown along the way. With swift, controlled movements, landing blow after blow, she cuts them down in flashes of jewel steel and black blood, thrusting towards her next target until heaps of putrescent flesh remained. Flicking the sickly substance from her blade, she peers down at them in disgust before pressing on further. It felt good to put them down. Negan stated it was like an addiction, and regretfully there was some truth in that, as it had continued to help keep her grounded even now, maintaining a sense of control. Subsequently she’d made more frequent trips outside as signs of the war were closing in on the communities, just something about being in the thick of it surrounded only with the dead for company and spacious environments, a small moment of needed isolation. Michonne dared admit she’d sometimes felt more at peace out here, then she did in there.

_“You’re trapped, same as me. You’re connected to the dead, same as me. We are the same and you can’t stand that we’re the same.”_

To her disdain, that arrogant voice would choose now to make a reappearance, unable to resist pondering back on those very words from years ago, the forewarning implications of her situation and mindset presently. Had he known? Was Negan covertly trying to push her in a certain direction? Michonne forcefully bats those thoughts away, the damp scent of dew and ghostly wet touches of the long grass against her skin while trekking through the lush, brings her back to reality.

Finally, while leaving a trail of undead carcasses behind her, Michonne found the familiar spot she’d been searching for that gladly appeared untouched, perching on a nearby trunk of a fallen tree lying in the green, with unsheathed sword resting in her lap. Her dreadlocks hung over on one side of her face, lightly swayed in the cool wind, closing her heavy lids as the gentle breeze grazed her face like a comforting touch. One couldn’t not admire the blue depths of the night sky, the hauntingly pale moon unfettered by clouds that silvered the area of tall hills and meadows that stretched for miles. The kind of territory Alpha and her followers slaughtered for, to stain with so much blood. She’d dared imagine what other gruesome displays Alpha was capable of emitting.

Absorbing the pleasant sight before her, Michonne’s mind takes another trip to the past. Everything that appeared on the horizon stirred a previous conversation with Rick all those years ago before the impending war with the Saviours to the surface, warning her of the lives to be lost, the possibility of them losing each other but vowing to continue to lead the others. While Michonne still had her lingering doubts, her suspicions of loyalty, her worries about the casualties and inevitable deaths, she needed to move forward with bold steps and they can be damned sure she was willing to undertake any hardships, any torture to protect her people. She owed it to them.

She gave in to a gratified smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not giving up.” Michonne spoke warmly to the beloved sheriff, the only words she could think to say that spoke a thousand more. “We’re the ones who live.”

Turning her sword, she fixated on the tainted blade. Setting foot on a battlefield again, it was inevitable that Michonne had to become a monster once more, detach from her usual, daily self. Taking lives and witnessing them taken, proved simpler when she had been completely independent and distant, location to location wandering with her pair of pets, but having crawled out of that darkness, was it possible to tumble back in? The types of monsters she’d encountered along the way. How soon would _she_ lose herself? Will all this cycle of slaughter turn her into something disturbing? Perhaps this time would be the one to break the camel’s back. It was a crippling thought, an inner terror that dwelled deep within her innards, but one that she refused to contemplate any longer tonight.

Ravenous gurgling on the right followed by rustling snaps her attention. Clutching her weapon tightly, Michonne rises to her feet and begins traversing through the forest circling back to Alexandria, the high walls quickly coming into view in the distance. Swinging the strap to her back, she peers at the look-out towers before climbing back inside the walls. Michonne hurriedly proceeded along the winding roads until her eyes befell upon her home, coming back to her family.

However, making her way up the steps, a knowing, guttural voice shoots her blood cold, resonating in the pitch black.

“Shit feels good, don’t it?”

What he referred to, he spoke as if she’d committed a sinful act. The smoky huskiness to his tone heated up the skin of her neck and receiving the madman’s crazed grin from the dark having caught her, Michonne practically rushes inside to close the door to not give him further satisfaction, leaving Negan’s chortling to reach deaf ears.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan is given an opportunity by the Council to work around the Safe Zone, meanwhile Michonne is forced to make a personal decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | Here we are with the final chapter, featuring the extended scene I knew I wanted from the beginning heh ~ I hope you enjoy! This fic already felt like a journey to write and there will definitely be more continuing on from this in the future, exploring the next stage. For now, I have a couple of fun ficlets of these two coming very soon. Thank you very much for the support as always, it really means a lot to hear your thoughts and it's amazing to hear how many enjoy reading it ~

 

»»————-　　                                                                                                                    ————-««

 

“Y’all just plannin’ on standing out here giving me the stink-eye?”

Negan stood cautiously in the middle of Alexandria’s winding roads and amid the activity, hands planted on his lean hips. Basking in warmth of the clement sun stretching far in the sky, the open air and rid of the stifling space of his cell, already lifted his mood. ‘Course, he wasn’t alone, but rather in the fine company of the esteemed council members staring him down as though in court passing judgement. A tenacious tug of his lips, he was amused at such a diverse group of people and how fucking _palsy-walsy_ they all seemed, the pain plastering their features showing a desire to be anywhere but here. The dry, rolling remarks from the one-eyed priest that was no less than glaring, was often a riot of laughs. Glancing to his right, focusing on the scene in the distance was the young Grimes, catching the dubious gaze while practising her sword skills. He chuckles softly, returning a small smile. While surveying, he otherwise ignored the various passing looks of suspicion as they went about their daily businesses. It wasn’t hard to understand what this little gathering meant.

On cue, she steps forward and he steals a glance in her direction. It was apparent that Michonne somehow persuaded them to agree upon a probation of sorts, while they continue to make their assumptions. Harmless work. Sowing seeds in plots, sweeping the roads and aid in mending fences if necessary. Boring as hell, but he’d take it. Laying out the structure of the day, Michonne jerks her head in a direction for him to follow. Without missing a beat, Negan turns intending to trail behind, before the walking man bush lunges forward attempting to interfere. The samurai politely shoots him down, relaying that she would take responsibility as discussed. They didn’t look convinced, but it didn’t seem to matter to her.

The two part for his post, and Negan can’t help himself to send a self-assured smirk over his shoulder at them watching carefully.

Michonne caught on. Sauntering beside her, the madman was beaming too much like a child that had successfully gotten his way. Though, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, she felt lighter. Even after past quarrels, Negan never let anything sullen how he interacted or behaved in her presence. If anything, he kept growing profusely confident, as though reading how close he was to breaking through to her. There was never a way to dampen the man’s ardour and she only ever seemed to be the one affected.

Struggling to fight her curiosity and attempts to ignore him, Michonne eventually leans forward as if to read his expression closer. “What’s with the face?”

Negan returns with pure delight in his voice. “You have to ask? Feel like a goddamn mutt finally settin’ foot outside.”

“I see that.”

He suddenly piques interest, looking over at her when they were far enough from the crowd. “How the hell did you make this happen, huh? Bust their balls a little?”

“Told them the truth. Anything else would be excuses. That we can’t afford not to make allies and use opportunities everywhere we can, so I’d make the most of this if I were you. You’re getting a day, and that’s all you’re getting. Others will take over; they need more than just my side. So, if you wanna prove that you’re worth trusting, here’s your chance.” Michonne advised, taking on an authoritative tone.

“I’m sure my ass not wastin’ one of you people qualify to ‘em as good behaviour.” He snorts when she rolls her eyes. Strutting down the tarmac leading into gravel, Negan gradually comes to a halt when he spots her sheathed sword hanging by her side. “That a precaution?”

Michonne follows, lifting her head with poise. “Get on my nerves and it can be.” She quips, otherwise shattering the serious role she initially planned to take. “You have a flair for that.”

Negan leers, the effect instantaneous as he restrains his jokes while the pair reach the cultivation for crops. An array of crumbling ridges and furrowed plots once scattered with overgrown weeds, denuded branches of their fruit trees beginning to sprout green buds. As the soft suns of spring had finally returned to them, the Safe Zone were immediately active in planting preparations and utilising other resources. Through the patches, Michonne befell upon a particular brunette carrying a small wicker basket of various seeds, signalling her over. Poor woman looked utterly exhausted.

With a parting smile and comforting brush of her shoulder, Michonne turns to thrust the basket and tools in Negan’s direction. “Better get to it. Don’t have much daylight left.”

He blinks with a small chortle, quirking a brow. “Putting _me_ on the seed team now?”

“Why not? You’re less likely to instigate trouble this way.”

Feigning offence, he glances above with a purse of his lips. “Now what makes you think I wanna start shit?”

“Is that a question?”

Locked gazing at each other smugly, Negan reluctantly backs down, putting on the large gloves and lowering to a crouch. Eyeing the tools in his possession with scrutiny, he begins plunging the trowel into the soil, grabbing the seeds each identified in small containers.

Despite something still pricking at her, she had managed to set this up in his favour. Michonne was a goddamn wall sometimes and he dreaded losing their emotional intimacy that was already beyond fragile. Especially in the middle of everything. He felt dark, focused eyes burning on the back of him while he continued shoving into the soft earth. What, was she expecting him to work briskly? “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this.” He taunted without turning.

Scoffing in disbelief, Michonne pulls away to focus on others around them, various passing by occasionally and another sweeping the tarmac only within metres away. “You’re not planning on doing this quietly, are you?”

“Frankly, that kind of boredom makes my balls ache.”

“And you think I care to change that? You’re only out here, to make an impression. And so far…” Michonne shook her head, flatly amused, catching split seconds of the attention centred in his direction, keeping their distance. “It’s not looking so good.”

Impervious to her light and dared he say, friendly derides, he simply huffs. He couldn’t care less about ‘em. Instead Negan dwelled on their unwelcome company of sick fucks wearing roamer skins, who the fuck their freakish leader was, with her second in command that sounded inhuman, and how Michonne planned to follow through in all this. They weren’t surviving without her. Incoherent exchanges at the gates suddenly catch his attention, spurring the same, disconcerting thought. Was he to remain locked up as an observer when the shit storm finally came? Just shut out, while people were dying on the other side?

“You know, when ya’ll start raising hell dreads, think you’ll have enough people?”

At such an abrupt question, she frowns curiously, recalling their previous discussion. “I don’t know. If we came together like before, there’d be a better chance of making it, but right now, we’re on our own. We just have to find a way.”

“Well. You ever need anybody inside, on the outside…” He trails off.

Michonne stiffens, the wheels turning in her head with disquiet interest. “You?”

“Come on, you can’t tell me it hadn’t raced through that head of yours. Outta help deal with your problem, since you came looking for it. You’re worried about keeping your own safe, right? But you gotta watch _yourself_. I know a thing or two, and like you said, need everybody you can get out there. And I’m downright fixin’ to.”

“How?” She presses.

“So now you’re interested.” Negan flicks to her out of the corner of his eye, humour lacing his voice while smoothing over another plantation. “I got ideas. And soon, you’ll find out.”

“Negan,” She narrows her eyes warningly. “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but if you do anything to put yourself and people at risk - ”

“Relax, dreads. Ain’t nothing worth sprouting grey hairs over.” He mutters.

“As you say. But so we’re clear,” The samurai inhales sharply, bracing herself as she sensed he was playing her. “Anything happens, you do anything stupid, you can be damn sure I’ll drag your ass right back in there.”

He laughs darkly while a rush overtook him. “Be hell of a crying shame. But I don’t think you will.”

“Keep pushing my limits and we’ll see what happens.” She tilts her head incredulously.

“Oh, I’ve done plenty more to push your limits. And I’m still livin’ and breathin’.”

 _We’ll see._ Michonne felt his knowing smirk. She could only think to cut it as some twisted form of exhilaration to him, or perhaps luring something out of her. Either way, that was when Michonne’s blood boiled, moving to stand reasonably close while speaking where only he could hear.

“You don’t help yourself.” Michonne hums, noticing her own responsive smirk too late. “One of these days, might find yourself regretting running your mouth so easily.” She’d half learned of this display from the man. The kind of behaviour one would expect from a child tugging on pigtails.

“Really.” He drawls, voice now radiating as he pivots to cast an equally provocative stare. “Now, it’s _interesting_.”

Arching her brow, she uses every ounce to end that conversation while situating hands on her hips. “Drop it.”

Goddamn, he never got enough of her feistiness. Wetting his lips, Negan offers a breathless chuckle, reluctantly turning back to planting. Nonetheless, the cheerfulness began ebbing away when he continues his previous proposal, running a hand over his salty scruff. “All that glitters ain't fucking gold, Michonne. There ain’t a whole lot of time and your friends’ gotta shove their asses in the red zone. Look, I’m not out here to piss you off. I know you can handle your own more than anyone, have damn bigger balls than anyone, but I sure as hell ain’t staying here doing mundane shit while you’re bustin’ ass out there.” Negan grumbles, clenching his jaw and keeping his voice low while digging at the soil with more force than necessary. She wasn’t needing to take the weight by herself.

As he was quickly becoming irate, Michonne sighs deeply, dithering at his persistence. She hadn’t begun thinking about that possibility. Well, that wasn’t true. She just preferred not to. She’d sought to ask Negan’s assistance and advice, but joining the war as though it were his own? She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Only if the situation grew more desperate could she see the council considering the option. Would Rick have even considered this? Nevertheless, his words reflected a deeper worry, and it was impossible to feel untouched by it. Eventually Michonne relents, looking away to focus elsewhere. “I can talk to them.”

Her tone manages to seep the tension from his body, despite the nagging possibly of being powerless to protect her and Judith when he could. Not knowing what was happening would drive him livid. It was transparently clear she didn’t wish to further approach the subject. Michonne had done enough for him thus far and knew she was a woman of her word. “Yeah. I know.”

As the allotted time drew near, an unusual heat began blazing ruthlessly upon them, baking the tarmac and bouncing off the ground with disorientating warps. The towering buildings provided them little shade. There was less crowding in the fields as others dispersed over time. Eventually deciding to assist in staking the soil, Michonne feels the unpleasantness of her top clinging to her damp skin. Looking over at their prisoner attending to seedlings, she saw beads of sweat collecting on his forehead, close to running down his flushed face in rivulets and small patches soaking through his shirt. Sighing, he runs a hand through his matted hair and down his face, wiping at the perspiration while trowelling at the dirt. He honestly looked on the verge of falling back on his haunches.

Something gnaws at her insides while watching strictly. Blinking out of her trance, she turns to approach the nearby household’s porch steps, targeting the worn rucksacks scattered on the ground in dappled shade, ruffling through gloves, scraps of wood, winds of string and other various supplies.

Smoothing the ground with the underside, Negan felt a light tap against his shoulder. He frowns while turning curiously to find himself eye level with the samurai’s knees, looking puzzled. Avoiding being blinded by the sunlight, he notices something clutched in her gloved hand. A baseball cap.

“Here.” Michonne says evenly, but her expression was soft.

Sharing a prolonged stare, Negan takes it attentively without passing a word, hearing the treads of boots fade somewhere behind him as she walks away. Staring absently at the washed-out cap, he knew her eyes were still fixed on him. Simpering to himself, he sets it on his damp head with newfound elation.

Eventually, the two were joined by Laura heading over to their post, greeting Michonne and catching sight of Negan crouched in the dirt. Although the dusty blonde had familiar ties to Negan as a former saviour, she’d proved to be someone reliable and capable, straying from his behaviours as she was taken in. Adjusting to the community, of course there were initial concerns and suspicions, but Laura earned their trust and therefore earned a place on the council, so Michonne had no qualms with passing supervision to her. In a way, Laura was proof of change, particularly from a once opposing, volatile group. Not all of them had. In fact, there had been some rebellious stragglers, while others were... executed for their crimes. Although to her, it was more due to bloodthirsty "just" revenge, as she suddenly thought of Maggie... She truly couldn’t blame such feelings, and she wished their relationship hadn’t ended so poorly.

Michonne heaved a sigh. God knows what the widow would think of her _now._

Willing the idea away and upon relieved of her shift, Michonne spotted the look Negan flashed her as they conversed momentarily before leaving the scene. For some unknown reason, it had stuck. Unable to describe what sort of look it was, it had tempted her to stay. Tucking dreadlocks behind her ear, Michonne drops her eyes to the ground as she walks, placing an assuring hand on her sheathed sword. There was still a long day ahead.

“Stare any harder, she’ll burst in flames.” Meanwhile, Laura’s unamused voice fills the silence, the pair left alone to their own devices. Retrieving a broom for him, she observes her former leader carefully.

Having torn him away for his reverie, Negan paused his efforts to peer at her, devoid of emotion while meeting her serious face. Their ironic positions tickled him inside. However, huffing sharply through his nostrils, Negan sneers coldly at the woman, paying no more heed than he needed to. The tension his samurai had taken with her, was slowly but surely returning.

  

 

 

Lying in shrouding darkness of her bedroom, spreading her fingers across the cool linen sheets, Michonne was struck with further sentiments that festered her. A tightness in her chest, that also felt to be sinking at the same time. What Negan expressed for her… felt real.

As intended, Negan worked the various hours while others oversaw him, apparently never missing an opportunity to belittle them some way or another. Now all that was left to do was wait. Despite the situation and having to keep up a front, she’d felt more at ease during the time spent with him, even beyond his antics. It was still bizarre to think about. Unable to recall how many days passed since then, if days at all, the more Michonne was subjected to an ordeal of what could only be recognised as missing his presence, the more she realised how starved she’d been of human closeness. Why she was missing this vexatious man and his compulsive nature was an aggravating mystery, one she could spend a lifetime trying to solve. Why him? Perhaps there wasn’t a concrete explanation. Confined in her mind for too long, Michonne was compelled to confront it. Experiencing tragedy after tragedy, she had never thought of the topic of romance after Rick, yet it had still ambushed and preyed upon her without clemency. Suddenly her emotional state wasn’t so unclear.

She had romantic feelings for the man. Stepping up to important tasks of being Alexandria’s leader, she tried keeping everything on lockdown, but it only continued eating away at her, feeling ready to burst at the seams. It was alarmingly true, the only man to have reached deeper throughout the years and hold her attention in such a way... likely even the last. Certainly, no secret that he was a handsome man either, able to reach another level of understanding with her so naturally. Michonne never felt as though she _needed_ a partner by her side, but was it wrong to want to pursue something more after so long? To feel wanted, needed. To feel adored by another. Maybe even feel loved again.

Sitting up swiftly and discarding her hopefulness of acquiring sleep, the samurai lifts her weary head towards the door, letting her gaze traverse around the room. Flashing images and sounds of memories shared that she still held close to her heart. Catching sight of oaken drawers, remembering the colt she kept in her possession, she knits her brow. A keepsake, but also gradually spiralling into a twisted form of tormenting herself. A sudden recall of how Negan latched onto the memory of his late wife, slapping her name onto a weapon and treating it like his most precious treasure, she was reminded how her mournful state could have easily turned in an unsettling direction.

It was true, Rick Grimes was precious to her, and continued to be. But using his memories hauntingly, succumbing to a damaging sense of guilt over and over, not allowing a pursuit of happiness, was leading her down a path of self-destruction.

Distracted, she glides her fingers across the varnished wood, her breaths evening out as she braced her arms against the dresser, looking out into the night. _I can’t lose you._ Once again returning to that memory, she’d whimpered those words while leaving that abandoned carnival overrun with the dead. Reliving that moment where she felt her world left her. Michonne had forced herself not to think of a future without him, whereas Rick had accepted the possibility of it happening. She should have followed suit, after all it was very probable in an unforgiving world like this, but it was a truth that was hard to acknowledge.

Even then, he had been right. She _had_ survived and continued to live. She’d stumbled but was back on her feet. Now it was time for her to be at peace with it all too, overcome her grief. Perhaps she was a fool, but so be it.

Sensations churning in her stomach, Michonne stepped anxiously into the prison once more, heart hammering painfully as though trying to escape her chest. Approaching the bars, a single moonbeam invades through the window, creating a soft, silvery luminosity to reveal the shape of him lying on the cot. She falters. Somehow, focusing on his peaceful, sleeping form near convinced her to turn back and forget the whole thing, but she needed to settle this while her courage remained. Raising her leather glove, she knocks the back of her hand against the metallic bars, the simple noises resounding in such a dead silence. The passing seconds were agony, before eventually, a tired groan seeps into the air from the other side, head barely turning to inspect. She wasn’t certain he could even see her at all in the dimmest section of the cell, but before she could speak, Negan slowly rolled himself to turn his body towards her, eyes leaden with sleep adjusting to the darkness and lingering on her face. The man seemed just as surprised as she was to find her standing there.

Watching with bated breath, Negan was somewhat fearful of shattering the image in front of him. Forgoing rays of light, seeing nothing but grey and suffering through only bleak walls for company, suddenly felt like fucking nothing. Eventually, he sat up, limbs feeling heavy while passing another groan, raptly eyeing her motionless form, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Somethin’ you do often? Sneak down here to watch me sleep? Can’t decide if that’s creepy as shit or fucking precious.” It was hard to tell in the dark, but he seemed concerned. “If you wanted company, all ya had to do was ask.”

Accustomed to the usual intent of his words, Michonne discards them, advancing towards the bars with steady steps while staring down at the square lock. The barrier to open once again. Without a word, she turns the rusting key and pulls open the straining metal. It promptly catches the man’s attention, meeting his questionable look.

Michonne casually opens the cell door wide all the way, before stepping back. Cautious of her intentions, he frowns unnervingly. Soon concluding this was set up to be some sort of test, Negan ponders once more if the opportunity to escape would’ve been taken back then, despite experiencing the outside after years and finding nothing. Going back to his roots of travelling place to place before his time coming into power, seemed harder than expected. Suddenly remembering how deflated he felt upon returning to the Sanctuary he’d once operated and constructed from the inside, all for it to be abandoned and left to decay, nature taking it for itself. The eerie silence. The emptiness. Almost as if everything Negan built, had never existed. Now every fucking day, he was left to wonder if he could _ever_ feel a sense of belonging in the Safe-Zone. He laughed at the thought. Of course, he desired his freedom, but not as a prisoner of war.

When neither of them moves an inch, Negan finally glances down to realise Michonne was without her katana. She had come completely unprotected, and that’s when it hit him. With an unreadable expression, he rises from the cot, taking measured, deliberate steps out of the boundary of the opened cell. Passing through the light and joining her in the shadows, he doesn’t stop as he closes the distance between them, an unknown force gravitating him towards her. She roots in place, but Negan scarcely heard her breath hitch in her throat.

“And here I thought for a damn second you were kickin’ me out.”

If Michonne’s heart had been racing before, now it had skyrocketed dangerously, her steady gaze unrelenting at the man hovering in her space. “If you really wanna go through with this, I can’t promise a lot of good will come of it. Things won’t be as simple.” She informs seriously, focusing on the smouldering eyes trailing up and down her form with such avidity, as though she were to be engulfed any moment.

Negan wet his lips that suddenly appeared dry, the air feeling heavier around them. “That ain’t shaking me, dreads. Unless you’re still set on believin’ the whole thing’s a _farce_?”

“...No. I’m not.” She admitted aloud. Folding her arms, she flashes a look in the direction of her home. “And I get it. Holding onto something that’s no longer there, only kills you. Got so bad sometimes I couldn’t breathe. That’s not living.”

“Hell, I could’ve told you that.”

“You did.”

The corner of Negan’s mouth twitches, producing a small noise as she breathes a disbelieving chuckle. Pursing his lips, suddenly the distance between them felt too much. His expectant look communicated that he already knew her next words, spotting Michonne’s jaw tensing while caught on her tongue. When she seems to toss that thought away however, he sighs.

“Never was good at this shit.” He mumbles before inhaling sharply, running a hand down his beard, stumbling on words to say. “Truth is. I don’t give two fucks whether folks out there trust me or not, but you _._ Right. Wrong. Whatever kind of label you gotta give it, they’re just as screwed as each other. You and me? Could have a really good thing going here and I’ve been _goddamn_ waiting to show your stubborn ass.” Against his better concupiscence, he waited patiently for her to shape her thoughts, brows high on his head.

That was when the slightest smirk crawled across her face at his little playful jibe. Once again, the sincerity in his tone spread warmth through her chest while losing herself in his dark orbs. All of this was madness, yet it presented itself to her as though it made sense.

Approaching as Negan once approached her with a new feeling of nerve, she gives a wondering look before pressing her pink lips to his own, soft and experimental. The time for talking paved way for release. When he reciprocates, slowly her thoughts began sinking into the background, blocking out the world around them as time seemed to reach a standstill.

With a sigh of relief, Negan doesn’t hesitate to snake his arms around her figure to pull her close while deepening the kiss. For considerably long moments, the pair simply hovered, embracing in the middle of the prison, lips devouring and exploring the others like starved animals finally indulging themselves. An insatiable craving, especially within Alexandria’s inveterate convict. The longer they kissed, the drunker he got. The humidity tonight only added to the heat swelling between them, caught in the moment as Negan begins pouring soft groans into her mouth, hands itching to trace and wander. As though appreciating a finely crafted sculpture.

Michonne pulls away in response, regaining breaths before anything progressed further. Resting a hand on the man’s chest, she looks up to catch Negan’s intense eyes that are almost dilating black. She felt as though she were staring through a window into nightfall while he pierced back, searching deeper. With a rumble in his throat, Negan tucks his fingers under the wide strip of Michonne’s belt and pulls her closer until pressed to his chest, eager to have her stunning frame against him. He impulsively slips his leg amid the curvature gap of her thighs and nudges them open ever so slightly.

The barest of touches, but the initiation was enough to stir a faint, familiar ache. “Negan.”

“Hmm?” He vibrates with a knowing grin.

“What are you doing?”

“Shit, ain’t you perceptive.” Negan mocks, voice thick with vulgar intentions and longing to make her feel content in the only way he knew possible. He makes a point to brush against her core teasingly, leaning himself even closer as if coaxing her. “Beats me, dreads. Whaddya think I’m doin’?”

She raised her brows, sighing as though the antics were tiresome, but biting back a persistent twitch of her lips from his wickedness. “Think you’re pushing your luck.”

“Am I? By all damn means, tell me to stop.”

An inkling of arousal forms between her thighs at his randy behaviour, watching him wet his lips with a cheeky smile. Such qualities that had once vexed her, now annoyingly attractive. Her expression hardens, something changing in her manner as she barely pushes him back when he attempts to steal another kiss. Violent flutters ricocheted from within her chest and jumped in her throat, her head racing. It all felt so surreal, but new and exciting. Michonne feels him pause, pulling away and concealing his concern but she soon clutches a fistful of his loose shirt and seeks out his lips again, every fibre of her body melding into it.

Unable to contain themselves, their kiss became sloppier with wrestling tongues and intermingling billowing breaths. Sensing a chill ghosting his skin, Negan breaks away in question from their lip lock to spot her delicate fingers slowly working open the buttons of his navy prison shirt. The unexpected sight stirs another wave of hot arousal dropping to his groin, lifting his head to meet Michonne’s eyes and graceful features swimming in desire. With her blessing to deepen their dalliance, he steals those alluring, plump lips once more. Already there was something that felt _different_ this time. Finally feeling the material shifting over his shoulders, Negan sways his way out of the sleeves, letting it pool to the floor carelessly behind him.

Michonne couldn’t help appeasing the natural curiosity, pulling back to peer and admire the man’s build. Reasonably slim but otherwise toned, dark patches of hair across his pecks as well as an alluring trail disappearing into concealed confinement of his pants. Venturing her hands slowly up his stomach to his chest, feeling each crevasse, each line along his physique, it had been considerably long since she had contact like this, completely entranced. Negan seemed to appreciate the attention, a smug yet affectionate smile in full force.

He inhales and exhales deeply, shivering at her touch before mirroring her actions while holding her gaze, fingers drifting down to the hem of her tank top. Michonne raises her arms with an air of elegance, the clothing lifted over her head before tossed aside uncaringly, revealing her equally dark bra. The sight was extremely tempting. Despite the raw hunger to tear off the damned thing, he suddenly felt the need to save the sight. Another time, hopefully somewhere _better_ than this shithole.

“C’mere.” A low growl resonates in Negan’s throat as he slowly guides Michonne back to the wall, the cool touch of concrete against her bare skin making her gasp. He had misgivings about even attempting to consort on such a narrow cot.

Succumbing to the addiction of devouring her lips once more while situating himself between her legs, he pushes his hips and grinds his growing erection hard against her with a long, shuddering breath. She instinctively wraps herself around his waist, keeping him situated. The friction grazed deliciously against his clothed member, feeling her warmth through the material and her dazed, lustful sighs driving him out of his mind. With what exposed skin brushed together only stirred the boiling pot of carnal desire that was rapidly building. The moment his name finally passed her lips breathlessly, voice dripping with pure need, the last shred of Negan’s restraint dissipates as he draws out another firm roll of his hips before hands shoot to her leggings. Keeping close, his eyes are unwavering from the sight of peeling them down her gorgeously lean, shapely legs that he fucking needed around him again. Michonne locks eyes as she languidly steps out of those tight leggings, hearing a low rumble begin to emanate deep within his chest as he was deeply engrossed.

Remaining clad in undergarments, Negan drinks in the sight completely, never taking the opportunity last, to pause and marvel at the woman before him. Dreadlocks charmingly framed her face, cascading down her back and overhanging her front, as if attempting to hide herself. Course it was implicit, but he’d always been fond of her change of appearance. The deep tones of her flesh, majestic, subtle curves of her body, and the way she held herself even now without trace of bashfulness, knowing perfectly what she wanted and tackling it head on like the kind of leader she was. It would drive any man to indulge her insatiably like forbidden fruit. Pretty as a damn peach. Thing of _fucking beauty_. 

“Goddamn... Shit.” He breathes in awe, before cracking a chuckle.

It had been a considerably long time since someone looked at her this way, with raw feelings behind it as warmth suddenly washed over her. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. With a possessive arm snaked around her waist, Negan lifts her closer to plant open mouthed kisses delicately above her breasts in a bold manner. Holding her breath, Michonne couldn’t help but wonder curiously if Negan was often this contrastingly tender. He lowers a hand to fondle her breast, lightly flicking his thumb over her hardened nipple peeking through the padding, nevertheless still as electrifying. Tracing the underside of her breast, it was torture as he continued kissing. She stuttered another gasp, moaning in the contact of body heat against her own, captivated in watching him continue caressing further towards sensitive flesh before suddenly pausing, flashing his teeth. He knew what he was doing to her. It was then that Michonne felt another part of her body craving attention, seeking out the older man further. Before a whine slipped her lips, he suddenly straightened, practically feeling her aching impatience.

Negan runs fingers along the hem of her undies teasingly, encircling tightly around the material and giving her a penetrating stare as he awaited permission. The instant she gave a nod, Negan was close to tearing the garments down her legs, only for Michonne to stop him in his tracks. Instead, she grabbed either side and lowered them slowly herself, almost challengingly until they dropped to her ankles. Poking his cheek with his tongue, Negan’s lips curled as he profoundly enjoyed her little game of control. A game that never ceased to end with the two of them.

Crashing lips again, Michonne grips his hair that had grown out tightly, a deep, provocative groan resonating in approval.

“Could use a fucking bed here. Do shit properly.” He says hoarsely, filled to the brim with sexual desire.

“Properly?”

Half-lidded, that spark of mischievousness replied once again. “Curious?” When the samurai stays silent, he grins salaciously. Leaning closer, he pecks lightly at Michonne’s neck, feeling the quickening pulse against his lips before tracing along her collar bone. Slow, deliberate kisses trail down her body, hands lowering to her sides.

Her heart pounds painfully at the anticipation, undoubtedly stunned at the man, _this man_ , before her sinking to his knees. Negan had been giving her unwavering attention tonight and Michonne was suddenly hit with a strange sensation. Soaking in the sight, her body felt as if drifting away, humming with uninhibited energy as her head started reeling again. She felt _alive_ , with an odd sense of power.

Throat rumbling, Negan heaves one of her legs over his shoulder, appreciating the gasp from above before diving into the sweet aroma meeting at her thighs.

If it wasn’t for the support, Michonne possibly would’ve lost her balance, her knees shook and body jerked, a harsh, stuttering gasp producing itself from her gaping mouth. However, Negan didn’t falter as he moved in sync, fluently keeping steady contact while she squirmed, lapping greedily at her entrance. Even the slightest brush of his rough, salty beard in delicate parts stole the breath out of her, sensations so intense that Michonne tossed her head back against the wall with a hiss, eyes fluttering closed. With another seductive purr, he began circling and flicking the tip of his tongue against her sensitive nub that had presented itself, before dragging more leisurely at her core.

Stealing a glance, Negan received a crazed thrill from observing the way her chest heaved, switching between gnawing strongly at her lower lip and silently screaming, spotting the perspiration glimmer across her skin. The way she arched herself. It was all mesmerisingly displayed before him, like an erotic dream. Hands gracing her thighs, he worked down further to caress her sex, inserting a single finger past her glistening folds. Soon another.

Uncharacteristically wordless, Negan focused on her pleasure while Michonne fought to keep her composure and not grind mindlessly against him. She felt as though she’d never hear the end of his bragging. However, it wasn’t long before she began grazing her nails against his scalp and twisting fingers in his locks again, earning her one of his cavernous growls. Focusing on how he worked his fingers, how deliciously they brushed inside her, she just craved more. She wanted to watch him, but every pleasure lolled her back into mind numbing bliss. Michonne had shed her former demeanour, her sounds spilling freely at how good he was making her feel.

The approaching wave crept up on her, shallowing her breaths and blurring her vision as tears welled in corners. Within seconds Michonne was quaking moan after moan, overwhelming pleasure shooting down her limbs to the very tips. Throwing her head back and absentmindedly grinding against his scruff, she casts aside the conscious thought of her peculiar expressions.

Negan grinned wolfishly. Michonne’s quivering legs, her heavy panting, her fucking sounds at her peak, only speaking in a language of strangled moans, was nothing he ever imagined. _Fuck._ His cock strained and throbbed against his pants so furiously it was painful, drawing his tongue deliberately across her folds and barely inching inside, before diving in intensively, finally gorging on her delectable nectar. Negan heavily desired to do so much more but was suddenly pulled to his feet by the beautiful woman riding out her high. Smooth, chocolate eyes now wild and burning, she steals a charged kiss while darting to his leather belt, the clicks of his buckle loud in the hollow room. Shit, it was attractive to see her so lascivious.

Chuckling darkly, Negan watches her for a moment, biting his lip. “Damn. That good huh?” He gloated.

“Shut up.” Michonne returns softly, rolling her eyes as the corners of her mouth twitch up almost imperceptibly, still a little breathless.

Naturally, he obliged in making quick work of the rest, not without teasing her and shoving his playful tongue against hers once more. “I gotcha, sweetheart.”

Negan lowers his fly and lifts her off the ground, holding her close and grasping handfuls of her ample backside. On instinct, her bare legs secure around his waist. A hairs breadth away from her parted lips, he inserts himself into her searing wetness, instinctively closing his eyes in ecstasy and surprised how much her body desperately clung, dragging him in. _Holy shit, he’d craved to be inside her again._

Michonne let out a small earnest cry that ripped from her throat, finding her body adjusting again to the pressure of his girth. Impaling her on his cock, he starts surprisingly slow, taking time to relish the first sensations and ease her into it. Panting softly, Michonne tentatively wraps her arms around his middle, embracing him more intimately as they began melting into each other, rocking and swaying bodies mixing with mutual sounds of pleasure.

Soon quickening his thrusts with a broken moan, Negan buries his face and unsteady breathing into her graceful neck. The samurai’s radiating warmth of her skin and natural scent were so inviting, that the primal urge to do something so daring, to leave a reminder, shortly resurfaced. Negan snarled softly. Just a little mark on the curve of her neck. _Jesus Christ._ He wanted to. Reaching back, he threads fingers in her dreadlocks, pulling lightly in contrast to the demanding pumps of his hips, slipping in and out of her slick entrance with ease.

Michonne trembled at the heightened sensations of her growing sensitivity, every little movement of his ministrations against her walls more intense than the last, pouring out small quivering whimpers. Gradually moving more fervently, he plants a hand on the wall as he drove deeper, his force knocking Michonne’s form back against the wall slightly. The darkened cell filled with thuds of smacking skin. The moment his head prods her inner depths, against her cervix, she startles at the sudden jolt of pleasure before her body flutters, a gasp rupturing from her throat. “Oh! God…” The pitch of her voice unsteady, she threads fingers in Negan’s dark locks and pulls firmly while arching her back.

The noises that were spilling from this woman made him _ache_ , impossibly craving more and rousing him further as he continued lavishing her, switching up to slower, deliberate strokes. Though she was becoming a little too vocal as her desire echoed around the walls in the otherwise silent night. Negan chuckles breathlessly, gently covering her mouth with his palm.

“Shhh. Fuck. I’d be more than fucking happy for you to scream your lungs out. But right now, you wouldn’t wanna draw people down here, would ya darlin’?” Just the thought caused another boiling rush, down south. “Damn sure to think I’m fucking killin’ you in here.”

The samurai huffed through her nostrils, suddenly meeting him with sharp rolls of her hips in response. Negan swallowed and staggered a small groan. She felt a sense of victory in catching him off guard like that, hands roaming over his bare chest, feeling the muscles contracting as he worked into her.

He recovers and stares darkly, moistening his lips. “Or would ya like that?” Asking smoothly, before drawing out a sinful laugh. “ _Dirty girl_.”

Michonne crinkled her nose and shook her head incredulously, ignoring the coil that tightened in her lower abdomen while proceeding to shut him up with a hard, hungry kiss. Their lips connect like puzzle pieces, almost inseparable. It wasn’t long before something ignited again, spreading through her nether regions as her breathing became erratic. Negan breaks away with a hiss, ogling at where they were joined.

“God, baby. I wanna feel you finish on my fucking dick. _Fuck_.” He utters heatedly.

She couldn’t help being amused and immensely aroused at how easily he spilled vulgarities and filthy chatter riled up this way, determined than ever to send her over the edge. God, everything felt too good for it to end. As her release approached, her walls rippled intensely around his pulsating length, scrambling to hold on to any part of Negan she could for leverage, clawing at his back. Her sensitivity, his stimulations, it was all proving too much. Mind whirling, while he seemed overtaken by his desire as he pummelled her aggressively, Michonne reached a pleasure that was almost blinding. Another strong wave rippling through her body resembling a shockwave, she jerked and seized, sealing her lips tightly, fearing any vocalisations escaping to be horrifyingly loud.

Feeling her clench his length tightly, greedily, her contents flowing and coating his shaft, Negan grunts while stuttering his rough movements. Hands slide down to stroke her smooth thighs, his grip unyielding as his own began stirring at the base of his spine. Negan watched with gritted teeth as Michonne rocked her hips to drive him home, ducking his head with a throaty groan when she angles just fucking _right._

“Keep going. God, keep fuckin’ going. I’m so damn close.” Negan announces, speaking desperately from oncoming release, his words unrestrained and dispersing a string of curses. He tossed his previous statement out the window, but he could fucking kill the person that interrupted them now. “Christ! Know what? Right now, I don’t give a fuck who walks in here, you understand? Whole of goddamn Alexandria can watch me screw your brains out.”

He wheezed a laugh, hot breath trickling onto her neck. Negan certainly had a mouth on him. Unsure whether to feel aroused, ashamed or horrified, why such a remark provoked her so, she failed to understand, but continued meeting his poundings with each snap of her hips, dragging her nails across his skin.

The fever inside building fast, every inch of his body felt on fire. Almost forgetting where he was, Negan urgently withdraws from her slit before exploding in ecstasy with a forceful growl and unbridled slip of her name, body tensing as his dick convulsed. He held her in place firmly, still twitching violently as his desire marked her flat stomach and mingled with the heavy stench of sex. 

Michonne fought to keep her balance but slips from the wall conveniently into his arms as her lithe body finally gives out. Negan reflexively catches her as both of their sweat ridden bodies go limp, sliding down to the hard floor in a panting heap. Automatically leaning on the man for support, she perches astride his lap, resting her head on his shoulder and lazily stroking his hair while collecting herself. Strangely, whenever she would find herself enveloped in these arms, there was a peculiar sense of calm that felt so foreign to her. A great impression of relief and satisfaction in the air, Michonne was unbothered by the sensation of Negan’s seed flowing down towards her groin, nor the ensued silence that lingered. This time, she felt no trace of regret, nor was there an air of awkwardness.

Panting harshly, Negan pulls back just a little to appreciate her dazed expression, a sight so rare to see on the samurai. Admiring the mess he’d made of her, begins sparking something intense, before he forcefully pushes it down. Michonne’s long lashes fluttered, rich eyes appearing gentle while reaching to cradle his face. Seeking out another kiss, slowly but passionately, by now their lips appeared abused and swollen. Immensely gratified, his smirk told her everything.

It was damn enough to stir the need to fuck her again right here. He stuttered breaths, grinning. “I’ll be _damned_. That … _Fuck_. I gotta say, you’ve gotten me all worn out... but I sure wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stick around ‘til mornin’.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t. But I doubt that’s the best idea. I gotta get back soon.” Caught in the afterglow, she hesitates to begin. “Negan. They can’t - ”

“Easy, sweetheart.” He assures her almost immediately, sensing what was troubling her and attempting to ease her thoughts. “They won’t.”

Of course, there was no possible way of knowing that, even with the cover of other distractions. There was an unpleasantness to the situation, that she had to look at the floor. Perhaps all this would grow to be too much to hide or deal with, the secrecy would make her feel filthy, but reaching an understanding with her people about this was a loss. Particularly in the events to come. They’d have to sneak around, if that’s what it took. She refused to press further, as he seemed to end that topic quickly.

While not too fond of the secrecy himself, nevertheless, there was something thrilling about the idea. Like a couple of hormonal teens seeking a moment of privacy. Michonne shifts in his lap, and he grunts as thighs accidentally brush his tenderness. He watches as she absently traces fingertips down his neck, delicately across his throat scar and down to his collarbone, eyes appearing sombrely transfixed.

Twisting the mood, Negan leans to plant a lingering kiss on her toned arm, suddenly lighting up. “Well. Big day tomorrow.”

“Why do you say that?” Michonne quirks in confusion.

“I do believe we’re working together, dreads. Don’t tell me that ain’t true.” Clicking his tongue and chuckling, he becomes distracted spotting the bright, genuine smile appear on her softened features. That was when a conflagration burst in his chest and surged through his body.

Michonne lets out a breathless giggle, creases in the corner of her eyes. She supposed they had been for a while now, whether she liked to admit it or not. Lifting her head, she takes in sight of the man fondly, before giving a gentle nod. Suddenly thoughts of the future didn't feel as discouraging. There it was again. Hope.

 

 


End file.
